Summer is starting and everything will pass.
Friday evening. The Offical start of Summer. Everyone out in the city wearing nothing but shorts and dresses. Men shirtless and boxers peeking out. Girls in tank tops or sundresses. Heat making the air just that little bit heavier, but not too much that it feels suffocating. Sat on an electrical box, reapplying my lipgloss. The Kiko lipgloss I’ve been wearing for the last year. Sat just around the corner from the sports bar I’m meeting [Redacted] properly for the first time. For some reason unknown to me, I found myself thinking back to a poem [Redacted 2] wrote in the short time we were talking. He sent me a few but this one always stood out to me. So much so I scribbled it down in my diary when he original sent it. The concept stuck with me for some reason. It’s not even romantic. More on mourning. Mourning the people you’ll never know. Lives you’ll never learn. I always end up going on dates with writer boys. Not that I do it often.
Nine minutes later, met [Redacted] outside of the bar. Sat in a booth further towards the back. F1 projecting on the wall beside us. Despite the fact [Redacted] and I have ever only spoke while I’m behind the till, we had a lot to talk about. Conversation constantly shifting tone, from doing silly bits to the more serious stuff. There was a man dressed as a chicken sat nearby us. Weird. Not the only weird thing. Found out we both like Hungarian music despite neither of us speaking Hungarian. Both of us wore cross accessories we don’t normally wear. Some call it weird. Some call it fate. Some call it consequence. Found myself stuck in the stall of a bar I’ve never been too. On the verge of texting [Redacted] something along the lines of, “hey, I know this is our first time meeting but I need to you get the staff in here”. Didn't have to send it thankfully, figured it out. Confessed my whole trapped-in-the-stall situation to [Redacted] who admitted he was too busy watching F1 and probably wouldn’t have seen my message. In some other timeline, I’m still stuck in that stall. Time flew and before I knew it, we were walking through the city. The sky clear, sun setting and few people left on the street. Stopped off at the Gino’s on the corner, bright LED lights shining down as we pick our flavours. I always pick bubblegum. Creature of habit. [Redacted] nearly picked bubblegum, but choice mint. For the best. My friends often tease me for my choice of ice cream. So if [Redacted] had chosen bubblegum, I would’ve had to get shotgun married with him. [Redacted] is a gentlemen so he walked me home. Left at my door with promises of music and books we’ll send to each other. I’m going to have him listening to Jennie soon, mission accomplished. As I write this, he’s just texted me saying he liked “Love Hangover” by Jennie and Dominic Fike. All is well.
Returned to The Roomates who had been in a body of water. Hearing the horrors of their near trench foot experience.
[Redacted 2] is graduating soon. So soon. Freakishly soon. Thinking back to being eighteen and visiting [Redacted 2] for the first time in, whats now, our college city. A little group of us travelling across the country. Messing up the trains. Got a whale tattooed on my ankle because I was eighteen on the other side of the country without my family. [Redacted 2] was a first year then, not sure what discipline she’d end up in. Now, a fourth year working on her final project. I can’t wait to see it fully finished. I wonder how stressed she is? How excited? What she’ll end up doing? So much can change in these few years. It’s almost scary. Eighteen year old me would never believe I live in the same college accommodation complex I once slept on the floor of. Eighteen year old me couldn’t picture sitting on a balcony in said complex with [Redacted 2], her roommates and friends, [Redacted 3] and [Redacted 4]. Playing music, talking, drinking and cutting hair as the sun sets on us. Music from the rugby club disco night trying to over-blast our own playlist. Retreating from the balcony once the sun is long gone, cosy om the couch watching Dirty Dancing. Eighteen year old hadn’t even seen Dirty Dancing. Now, it’s one of my favourites.
Summer is starting. The summer accommodation moving starts soon. I’ll finish my placement at the research company and continue working at the shop. I’ll plant new seeds with new relationships and dreams. Make new mood boards and playlists as the future hangs over me. Uncertainty. Temporary. Exciting, no?
Summer is starting and everything will pass.