//free\\ | My Favourite Season Summer

The thunderstorm.

I’d walk home, squelching in my sneakers, dripping on the front mat. My mom would just shake her head, hand me a towel, and point to the bathroom. “You’re crazy,” she’d say. “All of you.” my favourite season summer

Winter is for waiting. Spring is for sneezing. Fall is for homework. But summer? Summer is for being . It’s the season that doesn't care about your shoes or your grades or your alarm clock. It grabs you by the back of the neck and shoves your face into a bowl of ripe strawberries. The thunderstorm

We sat on the curb as the wind arrived, hot and frantic, flipping the leaves of the maple trees inside out. The first fat, warm raindrops splattered on the asphalt, smelling of dust and ozone. And then the sky tore open. “You’re crazy,” she’d say