The prompt for this week is…
I have fond memories of the glorious summers spent in Boston when I lived there as a young single twenty something. That seemed like a lifetime ago. I remember summer days that were so perfect that you just had to jump in the car with girlfriends and drive somewhere. We’d take day trips to the Cape, Naragansett Beach, Rockport…driving with the windows rolled down and our hair flying in the wind, carefree as we were.
Those were the days when I could do anything in a tank top, shorts, and my trusty Teva flip flops (which I’m still wearing to this day). From lying on the beach reading Harry Potter to kayaking down the Charles. Or stopping at little roadside stands for fried oysters and ice cream. Or lunch at the fish shack in Rockport where they sold fresh lobster with drawn butter, 3 for $30. We’d come home with the warmth of the sun and of the day trapped underneath our skin making us giddy. That warmth in our skin and in our heart stayed even after the cold showers we took to rinse off all the salt and sand that caked our skin and hair and clothes. That warmth felt so good…but not so good the next day when our skin became as red as the lobsters we had eaten for lunch.
Those were happy carefree days and sometimes I long for them. The warmth of the New England sun and of the company of friends who became real sisters to me. Thirteen years later, I still feel that warmth underneath my skin.
It’s been so long since I’ve had fresh lobstah with drawn buttah….