Summertime
Marica
|
01/02/2018
Summer breeze, the one that smells good, that homely atmosphere. Old friends, beach volleyball matches, sunset at the beach. Grandmother's barbecue, the screaming of the younger cousins. The table football matches, the "cornetto" in the central square at night, the music in the car. The sea. Summer rain, its smell on the pave. Light laughter, of those that make you fly to another world. Afternoons by bike. The hammock on the terrace, the stars at night, the bonfire on the beach. The game "Uno" in the afternoon, the group dances. The chats, of those that make you lose track of time. Homemade ice cream, “focaccia” on the beach, the “pedalo”. Roads that you know by heart, at every step, at every pebble. Horizons that you dream about even at night. Places that you imagine when you need to feel at home, to relive your summer. Memories that you keep jealously when the road becomes your home. When strangers become your friends for a day. And a bed in a hostel dormitory, as well as a mattress in a car, is your usual place. A different sunset every day. The weight of the backpack. The food you learn to appreciate, but that will never replace the Italian one. Grandma on WhatsApp instead of in the kitchen. The public bath or the toilet in nature. Exchanged smiles, crossed gazes. Foreign languages in which you learn how to say "thanks". The maps in the backpack, the camera always ready. The songs that refer you to every place where you have lived. The pictures you keep for yourself. Video calls with friends. The challenges with yourself. The limits that you need to recognize before than to overcome. The conversations with those who do not know you yet but have learned to do it in a few minutes. Coin-operated washing machines. Breakfast with tropical fruit. Lunches in the hostel kitchen. Dinners under the stars outside of your car. The unpredictability of every hour. Trekking on unknown paths. Breathtaking landscapes. The silence of nature. The sound of the sea, of a sea that makes you feel at home, safe. New breeze, that summer breeze again. And you stop waiting for something. And you think of the past as a beautiful memory and of the future as the result of what you are right now. You don't need to pretend to be what you are not. You can be yourself or whoever you want. The freedom to think, to act, to make that decision, to take the risk. Without remorse or regrets. Living just remembering the summer or feeling it inside you. It is up to you. Always.