I live in Oregon. So I get a hearty dose of rain each week.

Don't get me wrong, I love the rain. That's actually one of the reasons why moving to Oregon appealed to me. But these past couple days I have found myself lusting for summer. I have found myself craving the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. Here's an excerpt from some prose that I wrote about this lust. (This is inspired by my high school experience of summer.)

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I want to smell sweet lemongrass and sip not-too-sweet lemonade, and have one layer of clothes on. I want to smell the salt from my sandals and swing my hands back and forth in the humid summer air. I want to tie little flowers into a boho headband, wear countless necklaces and handmade woven bracelets. I can’t fake the joy that’s risen to the top of me ever since the temperature went up to 90 degrees and my parents leave the front door freely open. I wish I could sit on the dock with my cousins and sister, letting our tan feet drift in the lake water and gaze at the other side. I want to lay on the driveway with my friends at 2 in the morning, looking up to the twinkles of the stars and the moon illuminating our grins while we have deep conversations. I must be able to go river rafting with my cousins in Tahoe, floating by cute boys on rafts and carelessly lying on the edges. At night, sitting on the big house’s back deck, playing guitar, singing old songs and eating dessert. The dark blue sky somehow tells a tale from when I was little, reminding me of us little girls in sunflower dresses, straw hats and getting stones in between our toes from the little lake shore rocks. This is what I live for. Summer is what I live for.