(Had Me A Blast?)
As fleeting summer romance becomes less relevant to the 30-something settled life, both its detail and significance recede slowly but not surely into the emotionally-jarring past. The heartbreak and excitement, once all-encompassing and unreasonably dramatic, have been swapped for stability and calm. Yet old photo albums, chaotic journal entries, and occasional scraps of hand-written letters remind us of the necessary path that provided strength and wisdom too painful to appreciate then. As we tormented, indulged, and moved on, we eventually found(/find) the real deal, that will see us through decades of summers to come, and make the sordid seasons past seem moderately irrelevant. Enjoy!
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