Friday, July 11, 2003

Every Thought's a Possibility

Listening to Carly Simon on the radio as we, a bus filled with Italian 10-year olds and one American (often mistaken for Chinese), drove through Le Marche countryside--past olive groves, bails of hay in long golden fields, crumbling farmhouses, a wide green-eyed lake--I felt the feeling one gets when one realizes for the first time that it is, finally, summertime. It was a breathable calm feeling, but it was tinged with a sense that time is already passing away, that the summer won't hang on much longer.

On the bus the kids talked and played gameboy and stood up in their seats. The other counselors chatted, watched their watches. In fifteen minutes time we would arrive at a water park, spend the whole afternoon in swimming pools, sliding down water slides, jumping from diving boards.

But I will remember always this--having stopped a moment and feeling that the summer is coming to an end. Having heard music, kids laughing, and having been reminded of this summer, and summers past. In a month's time I will be on a plane back to America. The summer is ending. I can feel it already.



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