I remember the hot summer days in my old neighborhood when there would be eleven of us all pedaling around the neighborhood, and when we got tired enough,
we would sit on my father's trucks' tailgate and laugh as we ate refreshing slices of watermelon. Then someone would bring popsicles or Sprite and we would laugh the whole afternoon.
And when the sunset, we all ran off in different directions to play a game of Manhunt or tag, or otherwise to return home.
We would hide behind bushes and I remember that one moment when I thought he would kiss me. But he never did. And then the next day? We would do it again. And again. And again.
Those were the good old days.