Last Night I Fell Asleep Dreaming of Summer
by Nicole Trilivas
Last night I fell asleep dreaming of summertime. Specifically, the childhood summers in my suburban hometown. Summers were pure in that ’50s Americana way. Me, Lauren, John and Charlie, on our bikes, racing down the big hills off Ryder Lane, then around Copley Pond, or my favorite, Pollywog Pond. Our houses were built in a valley, this dipping knot of side streets and hills made for bike rides. Carless. Careless. The sun setting a blaze, cutting through those ancient sycamore trees that line Park Avenue, making the leaves look like stained glass. The smell of grass being cut, manicured perfect. Sticky ice pop fingers, grass-stained feet. The call of our parents when it got too dark. Then BBQ dinners outside, fireflies and charcoal grills–the smell of hot dogs and burgers, my dad’s were always the best. And then it was bath time, only to falling asleep to the cicadas, the booming cicadas.