I'm woken up on the living room couch by the early AM sun. My childhood view illuminates: the Long Island Sound flanked by our backyard of trees and grass. The mourning dove coos, peak nostalgia.
Dad is up. Cabinet doors open, pans are out and eggs cracked.
Heading upstairs, I jump in bed and press play on some more ZZZs. A few hours later, Mom opens the door Kramer style. I'm called back to the same scenes 7+ years ago, when she would frantically remind me how late I'd be for school. I love that the present feels like the past. I loved my classes in high school; I love Stony Brook, and I missed my parents.
GIRLFRIEND ARRIVAL: We leave the LIRR station for a walk around the village. Then to the library, where I ran into a friend studying for their med school exam. Next door, my old elementary school is hosting Field Day. Way back when, Field Day was our Summer Solstice.
LUNCH: We're at the shopping center where my Dad's office is. In the parking lot, he's cruising out, throws his hand through the window and squeezes our palms. He's just as excited as I am, to be home and in each other's company. His daily migration to CVS for KIND bars resumes.
BACK HOME: I hop on Zoom with my college best friend. We're early into our working career together, bound by a project that is as exciting as something one could do.
DINNER: A barbecue feast, served outside as the sun sets. Buddy, our dog, is chilling. He's still kicking, even at almost 15 years. Shoutout to Mom, providing him with ample attention and care. Dad walks with his tongs, and I long for just a few more hours of light.
Today was the perfect day, a postcard of my extended adolescence. I miss you already.
