For more campfires, for developed Holga film, for fresh film to snap, for fresh lemonade on the porch. I can't wait for Mike's big family party, for swimming to keep from melting, for cold showers in the afternoon, walking around with wet hair, for the smell of sunscreen on a weekday, for waking up earlier and earlier to get the last lick of cool air before the sun is full in the sky. I can't wait for homemade iced coffee, sun tea, popsicles, salads to cool my insides, the enduring layer of sweat that comes with summer. The slowing of limbs, of mind, of life that comes with the heating of the weather. The urge--and the time, the pace--the soak it all in.