The last weekend before school began, my wife and I went for a walk. I glanced back and saw several boys from the neighborhood with the same idea. I had my camera. I snapped a few pictures. Memories returned.
Maybe it was because, as a teenager, I walked that same street. With friends or alone, a person must go south to State Street in order to connect with the rest of the world. I remember being their age during the waning days of summer, excited, yet at the same time feeling melancholy, a little bummed that not all things I wished to accomplish when summer began came to pass.
Such is life.
Later, after coming in from our walk, I downloaded the pictures and I noticed--maybe for the first time--the beauty beyond the road. The trees, green proving they survived another hot summer. The weeds, long-turned yellow, their green disappeared months before. I wonder if any of the boys noticed the scene spread before them like a living canvas.
Probably not. I know I didn't when I was their age.
They didn't know I took their picture, and I doubt they would care if they had known. I don't know where they were headed. Destinations are sometimes limited for boys too young for their driver's licenses and access to a car, or that lack older siblings willing to taxi them to and fro. Most likely they walked down the hill, maybe stopped at the local gas station/convenience store. Perhaps they made it to one of their basements where they played video games and talked about school beginning only days away.
And when they disbanded as day turned to night, did they return as a group? Did they separate and find their homes separately? Were they more excited for the weekend to be over, or still wishing for more time. I don't know, but I do know, they'll get the chance to do it all over again in just under twelve months.
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