Dear Summer,

As summer comes to an end, and I reminisce about all that I did. The times I spent running in the sun, dipping my feet in the ocean, laughing with friends, the many trips and BBQs, and those warm summer nights that seemed to go on forever......then I wake up and realize that none of those things happened. Is it really summer if you do none of those things? Does it count if you worked all those months, and had no time to inject some fun and excitement into your life? What is summer without some carefree days, and long adventurous nights? I fear years from now I will have no stories to tell, no memories to laugh about with my friends, and no one so sit and talk about how we had our first date at the Carnival/Fair and ate Funnel Cake together (mmmmm).

What is life if you're not spending every moment making memories? What kind of mental scrapbook am I making for myself. Sure, I'll have some funny anecdotes from the days at the office, and random bizarre things that happened every now and again, but nothing compares to the type of memories and stories that come form being out there. Where? Nowhere in particular, just out there, where there are no walls, and desks to keep you in a snug little corner. I guess that ends my ode to a summer forgotten.