The beginning of those summer nights

It's half eight on a Saturday evening. Your shirt is infested with dry grass cuttings from the grass fight you had two hours ago. The sky is beginning to dim and only the street lights on the main roads have begun to light up. Side streets are lit by the dusty salmon sky which lights up the skyline flawlessly. Today has been a good day.

It's the beginning of those summer nights, where everywhere you walk you can smell the fading scent of the memorable sunny afternoon garden barbeque's, the air feels light and warm against your skin and even as dusk begins to fall you still do not require a coat or jacket.

You get home after a long day of work, seeing friends and lengthened walks along the river and you sit in the garden with your house mate while she smokes a cigarette and catches up with you about the last few days.

These are the days I remember most. These are the days I love.



Yet as much as I love them, and as perfect as they are, and as many of the loving butterflies-in-your-tummy kisses your boyfriend gives you and the amount of times he honestly truthfully tells you that you are beautiful; and as much as I enjoy the grass fights with best friends, and the walks along the river and the lazying in the sun; and as enjoyable as the shift at work is, and as comfortable as the summers day walk around town was, I still can not escape that tiny little nagging irritation in the back of my mind whenever the high pitched annoyance appears.

I will not let this ruin my day :)