Why summer nights can be so long and tricky? Who told them it was ok to summon up our worst and most irrational fears? Aren’t summer nights made to enjoy cool sand under your feet, sweet and sticky watermelon juice on your fingers and bonfire sparks in front of your eyes? But above all, aren’t they supposed to be short? Guys, I am almost sure someone is purposely stretching my nights lately. Who could be guilty of such and hideous and unfair crime? Well, I do have a suspect. The monster that lurked under my bed when I was a little girl. (Ha). The irrational, scary, shrewd little bastard that disappeared whenever my mom checked its hiding place. “There is absolutely nobody here honey, you see? Now go back to sleep.” But I knew that it was coming back as soon as I would have been alone again in the dark. Stretching the time that divided me from the next bright summer morning, tickling my feet with its stinky claws, whispering scary things in my ear. It’s an old friend that keeps on visiting me from time to time, the only difference is that now I know it’s useless to call for grown ups to check under the bed or inside the closet. The only thing to do when it comes is to face it and bravely listen to what it has to say.
Just Breathe
What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? — it’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s good-by. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.
Jack Kerouac, On the Road
