pruning.

{via here}

My list of the things to do is extensive, and fairly important.

Financial aid to apply for, blogs to be designed, notes to write, friends to call. 

But this afternoon, as I sat in a white plastic chair and let the scorching Florida heat dry my dripping wet body, I didn't care. 

I swam and jumped and played for hours, until my back became burned, and my lips cracked from the heat. 

My fingers and toes turned to prunes. My book remained unread. My eyes were cloudy with chlorine.

And it was good. 

Because at 24, there is no more summer vacation. 

My husband is working and studying. I am preparing for graduate school, trying to maintain our home. I have design jobs to complete and meals to cook. I have feelings to conquer and doubts to squelch. 

In short, I am becoming an adult, and I could let summer just become another season. Brief, warm, and passing.

But there are some days, some moments, when I still remember. 

To jump off the diving board. 

To scream at the top of my lungs. 

To let my hair air dry and my makeup wear off. 

And those moments? 

There should be more of them. 

Because there is still a summer. 

And I want to relish in it. 

Today, I played in the pool. 

I didn't lounge. 

I didn't read. 

I didn't tan. 

I played. 

I wore goggles and got water up my nose and developed a synchronized swimming routine and did handstands.

And at the end of the day, I am tired. 

Not from Twitter or Facebook or email or blogs or computer usage or TV or books or drama. 

From fun. 

From wearing myself out. 

From being a kid.

And it feels good.