83 degrees

It was 83 degrees.

A light springtime heat. A perfect coffee shop; a perfect patio with perfect seats, ice cold coffee that's sweet. I was spending my days as a ditz. Wondering around without a clue and spending too much like a fool. I could blame the heat and say it makes me overthink.

But I still overthink anyways.

My friends think I'm crazy but in a good way. When the sun comes I embrace the waves instead of hiding in the shade. I'm always running and laughing: running while laughing, laughing while running and carefree as silk-stocking sliver spoon child. Except I'm really not that child and never was. I am going to these coffee shops to make me feel elite; brewed "ethically sourced" beans from Mozambique.

It feels like on the outside I fit right in. I wear my thrifted finds and type on my MacBook Air frivolously. I use my first name for the drink order because it's very English (well actually French). But on the inside I feel like an outcast; a traitor to my parents. A foster to my brittle belittlement all while it's 83 degrees, nice and perfectly sunny. It's a hard feeling to describe while typing frivolously.

This summer I don't know what to expect. I always looked to summer as a form of escapism, a leap into youth and freedom. It's a time to be ignorant to my deep festered wounds while simultaneously being alive. A time to never care about the heat. It could be 20 degrees past 83 and I'd still run around downtown. I would jump and fall and swim and crawl and dance and sing and capture it all. Let me grab my skateboard and go over to her house. After I will meet them for dinner and see his show because he's the lead singer. Parking will be hard to find and expensive for those who don't have the time. I find the glorious in short supply parking and drive late at night. I eat again late at night and then I text them about the plans for the next day and the next day and the next day. The summer cycle is always set on repeat.

However this summer, this summer is different. This summer I play it safe because I'm so close to moving away. There is a little institution called college. I have spent a majority of my 83 degree coffee shop days dedicated to college. College is where I leave the burden behind me and flourish as a dignified being. College is where I become one of the elites and open my own coffee shop with "ethically sourced" beans from Mozambique. I make my way into social scenes and I throw away my frivolity. I become the daughter of proud parents. "She goes to such a good school". Yes I'm the good girl that goes to the good school and make good grades and get's a good job and meets a good man who also has a good job so he'll make a good husband and support his good wife and good kids who may want to go to a good college too.

But right now I'm still the 83 degrees ditz seated in a perfect coffee shop. I have spent years getting away with summer. I have spent years coming up with an alibi because I was desperate to feel free. I was desperate to feel like me. I expect this summer to be higher than 83 degrees which means the ice cold coffee will be extra cold. The patio under the shade will be filled with those I look like on the outside. I will wait for college and wonder if it will ever come. Will it ever be 83 degrees again?

Maybe.