Running

I pictured more running, I guess. Running up and down streets and driveways, racing each other to the pool. Running between the raindrops when summer sun collapsed into cumulonimbus. Running home for dinner at mom’s voice or to bed when the streetlights come on.

 

We were never inside then. Summer days, we’d watch the sun move from one horizon to the other, turning bronze under its watchful eye.

 

I graft my childhood onto his. Maybe it is too much to expect him to summer like we did in dinosaur days (and maybe I edit, forgetting the rain and Mom kicking us out on a day too beautiful for Super Friends). Still, he turns his back to salt water blue to win shooting wars on Fortnite.

 

This was not the summer, perhaps, to expect legions of kids knocking up for him to waste the day away while they still can. And I sound to myself increasingly like a dinosaur when I expect today to look like yesterday.