While on a meandering walk with Cosmo the other day, I found myself in front of a neighbor's house. The family had moved in a few years ago—a husband and wife and one daughter, now a tall, pretty teenager. Cosmo paused to do some sniffing in front of their house. It was a beautiful early-June afternoon. The air smelled of flowers and the wind whispered gently in the trees.
I heard the murmur of voices but at first couldn't tell where they came from. Then I noticed the daughter, lying on the side lawn with a dark-haired boy by her side. They were talking and laughing and the girl had a blade of grass between her teeth.
The scene instantly took me back to my own teenage years, when I wanted nothing more than to daydream the afternoons away under the spell of a clear blue sky. It made me nostalgic for the heady sensation of having my whole life before me and all the time in the world. And most especially, it brought back the glorious feeling of young love.
I know I'm leaving some things out—the insecurity, the adolescent angst. But still, not much can compare to the teenage intoxication of a warm day, a cute guy, and no parents in sight.