I'ts tantalizingly close, this thing called Summer.
My friend Julia's post (link on over up top) brought me down memory lane--I too bought cigarettes for my parents at our corner store before the laws of the day put a stop to that.
I ran yesterday.
It turned into a walk as head pain halted my increasingly difficult pace, the heat making my heart literally hammer in my chest.
So once again, halfway into a 10 k I was facing a nice long walk home.
But for once, I didn't mind it.
Because, it's almost summer.
The season that I feel no one appreciates more than us north-bound Canadians.
People were everywhere as I wandered down Broadview yesterday.
Yard work was happening along Queen Street. The scent of fresh earth, grass and flowers being planted.
Burgers were being charcoal-grilled outside. I was back to my childhood weekends at Kew Beach, my parent's Hibachi, our hot-dog-and-hamburger-lunches on a picnic blanket on the sand, our cooler stuffed with pop for us, beer for our dad. Sandcastles. Bathing suits that were perpetually damp.
I just drank it all in.
I didn't hurry on my long walk home.
Not really going anywhere with this as I sit on a Sunday morning.
Another run awaits, and the weather is weird.