The dark path leads me through a town without lights. I know it's there, it's been witnessed in the sun so I turn to look at the old store. The sign blinks O P E N in red, a pickup is parked and three kids are climbing in the back. A scene, a photograph can evoke on such a rare occasion the knowledge of a particular time and place, of warm night air, of no school tomorrow, of friends and loot at the store where we got to choose one thing and never complained, front porches we called base, running to the end of a pier with all the speed you could muster and jumping as far as you could and feeling the cold water and losing your breath and coming to the top only to see your little brother flying over your head.
Sweet, sweet summer.