Summer leaves so quickly. Wait! Come back. Give me more time, I meant to ask my friends to go on an adventure with me.
 
I was going to ask, "Can we make breakfast together? I'll wash the dishes afterward, then we can dress like the smiles we'll wear for the rest of the day.
“Let's go to the park, because I brought my camera and our eyes are still shedding the last of bits sleep, the morning sun keeps trying to kiss our noses through the treetops, and we look like tired angels.
“Then we can go to the elementary school playground and swing on the same sets like we used to, kicking higher and higher until we let the momentum die and our feet are back on the ground. The same slides will burn us, and the monkey bars will not accept our hands for the calluses they've lost.
“For lunch, can we bike down to the river and eat whatever we've packed in the shade under the bridge? It's rocky, but I know a flat stone where we can sit and count the ducks.
“When evening falls, let's go back home and throw blankets and pillows in the back of my car, drive under the yellow streetlights with the windows rolled down like some scene from a coming-of-age Sundance film."
I was going to ask, "Can we park under the stars and laugh until daybreak?"
 
Summer came and went and I watched it go.
Summer is past, and all I can do is try to imagine it all, then hit rewind.