rose tinted boy

Believe it or not, I wouldn't change anything about Ohio summers. I love the glimmering cornfields that rustle in the breeze. I love the middle class suburbs that smell like freshly mowed lawns, and the way each of them are painted in checkerboard grids across the green. I like the woven lawn chairs in open garages. I love the hot nights in backyard swimming pools and blazing fires under star-studded skies.

We stayed out partying until the lights flipped on, replacing the hazy pink we danced under for the last three hours. We reassured everyone who passed us that the vomit we stood next to was not ours. We are not liars. Not about that.

Summer hung in the air as drunken partygoers stumbled down the sidewalks, a handsome man in navy blue patroling on the curb.

I dance to an upbeat song in a section that should be reserved for VIP. I watch the party below, everyone sweating and dancing and spritzed with cologne and perfume that doesn't seem to help. Two men sit behind me on a black leather couch while I dance in front of them, my arms in the air, my baby tee inching up my slim waist.

My life is changing.

As I sit on my outdoor swing and watch the sky turn into swirls of pinks and purples, I find myself daydreaming about where I'm going. Perhaps it's a new chapter. But maybe it's a brand new book. One riddled with adult experiences and new characters and an upbeat soundtrack. Gone are the old sets and stale plotlines.