Endless summer days are here

Why do our summer memories hold us so captive to their magic? Perhaps because they were the only instances in our misused age of innocence when we viewed time as a limited resource. Everyday was precious. Every wink of hot, sweltering sleep under a noisy fan. Every ripe, juicy mango. Every lemonade mama made after whole mornings of biking through the suburb. Every picture of some eternal, veridian afternoon painted at summer art classes. Every visit to grandma's and every sleep over with the cousins. Every minute was treasured because even as children, we sensed that this time would be gone before it had begun.

I was watching old Friends reruns today, from way over in 1994. I was 8 in 1994. I remember imagining the quaint baggy dresses, the dungarees and the shapeless hipster jeans, the awful tights and the wavy hair as the heights of fashion. I remember when "hanging out at the coffee shop" seemed like the idyllic life of my dreams. I remember wondering if such things really happened to people like us...

I'm experiencing nostalgia about the Nineties! Wow...time sure is flying.