When Summer Slips: A Collection of Memories

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It slips away slowly, the way that a swim suit strap may slip down a tan shoulder while

reaching for more sunscreen on a warm day. Summer does not disappear overnight, but rather

fades, clinging to the trees, the soil and the leaves for one more day of relaxation. The

summertime does not go easy, sticking to the bottoms of young children’s feet as they run from

the sand, carrying grains back to their beds for nighttime rest. It remains for weeks after in the

freckles of my mother’s face brought out by the sun.

There was a time at the age of 9 when I laid in the backseat of my father’s old car for 14

hours and 28 minutes. Once that time had passed, I climbed out and found that we had travelled

from my New Orleans home all the way to the Florida Keys, specifically Key West. And on that

adventure, I remember swimming in the cool water, goggles and snorkel ready for anything

under the vast waters. Just below the clear abyss, a school of fish waited for me at the bottom of

the metal ladder that led into it. I named as many as I could and swam wherever they did. For the

day, they were my family. With every splash that I made they would instantly flee, but just like

the waves of the sea they would eventually come back to me.

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I can remember clear as day in my head waking up to the smell of an assortment of

breakfast foods: pancakes, sausage, eggs, you name it. It was the first day of summer and I was

14, excited to do the things I never could when school days would endlessly drag on. My mom

would be in the kitchen, spatula in hand, just as excited as I was. It meant popsicles by the pool,

slumber parties with friends, playing outside all day. It meant throwing on sandals, playing

volleyball, getting sno-balls with my family, going to the zoo with my grandmother. Being 14

during summer was birthday parties with waterslides, grilling in the backyard, going to the fair to

ride the rides over and over. It was care-free and beautiful. Nights were shorter, days longer, and

at the end we never wanted to let it go.

In the passenger seat of my best friend’s car, 16 during the summer was something I

could never forget. Drinking gas station icee’s and driving around with 8TEEN by Khalid

blasting, we could’ve never felt more alive. Those days were spent exploring the parts of our city

that our parents were never interested in seeing. Old buildings, piers, docks, parks, trails,

anywhere that we could use our eyes to see what we hadn’t before without leaving the vicinity of

where our parents permitted us to go. While these days were full of happiness and youth, they

were also plagued with thoughts of how many summers had already passed, and how many we

had left before adulthood swept away our peace. My friends and I enjoyed the pieces and parts of

each other that would grow and change as we did, and we loved one another as closely as people

ever could.

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The summer of 2019 caused my heart to both swell and ache. It was the summer before

college. The one where I had to muster up the courage to pack up my belongings and move 8

hours away from all of the people that I love. It was a summer full of moments that I willed

myself to hand onto forever. The last summer where I would truly feel like a kid. It was a

summer of new beginnings and ‘see you laters.’ It was a summer of hoping that I could keep in

touch with those from 12 years of schooling even though we were all dispersing in totally

opposite directions. It was a summer of hugging my parents a little tighter, looking at them a

little longer when I could. It was a summer of building forts with my sister in case I wouldn’t be

able to do that with her for a while. It was full of “I need to see you one more time before you

go!”, and, “I can’t believe you’re leaving, but we’re so proud.” It was so bittersweet.

Summers are different than any other season. They can be defining for the lives of others.

Summer is the time to relax, to create, to step out of one’s comfort zone. I hope that this summer

you hang onto the moments that you are given and that you take everything in. Everything is

what you make of it!

Strike out,

Writer: Macie Herbert

Editors: Madison Sloan and Marissa DeMaio

Saint Augustine