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     .* O . .   ..   ..O  ..    360            20 May 2001             ) ( ')
   .*   O O* o o  o o  o o  o                                         (  / )
  *  ***O O  O O  O O  O O  O                                          \( _)|
 *      O o  o.*..o.*..o.*..o. .net              "Fever"                    *
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  *.    o   |\      _,,,---,,_                                              *
       *    /,`.-'`'    -.  ;-;;,_                                          *
      *    |,4-  ) )-,_..;\ (  `'-'           by Jersey Girl                *
      *   '---''(_/--'  `-'\_)                                      *mE0w*  o
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         'Anada is cat-friendly..o*`       

 *** "But I remember us riding in my brother's car, her body tan and wet  ***
 *** down at the reservoir, at night on them banks I'd lie awake, and     ***
 *** pull her close just to feel every breath she'd take."                ***
        (The River, by Bruce Springsteen)


        Summer.

        The summer of my 16th year was a time of endless nights.  Josh and I
 had been introduced at a party held on the last day of school.  He was the
 older cousin of a good friend, staying in town for the summer to work for
 his uncle's lawn-care business.  When we first met, something inside me
 clicked, and I knew from that point on my life would be a little more wild,
 a little more strange.

        Heat.

        That summer has to have been the hottest, most humid weather I've
 ever endured.  The kind of air that cooks your insides, magnetizing clothing
 to your skin.  The sort of heat that makes wearing nothing sound attractive.
 I lived in my cut-offs and white tank top, the one that's been washed so
 many times it barely covers my belly-button.  It was too hot for shoes.
 Bare feet and green grass mad a fabulous combination, hand-holding optional.
 
        July.

        My favorite month of the year, July has to be the most perfect symbol
 of freedom.  No school, little time spend with the parents, swimming pools
 and strip-pits, bbq's and bra-less, reckless abandon.  Even though I lived
 in a white-trash hell-hole, hedonism ruled.  Perhaps that isn't ironic after
 all.

        The fourth.

        Due to early-morning rains, the hummity was a choking 99% in the
 afternoon, even though the sun beat down brightly and the sky was void of
 clouds.  Josh picked me up at 8:30 pm. I wore my pink halter top and short,
 dark jean skirt, with slightly-sluttly black sandals, my sun-streaked hair
 falling half-way down my back. We had planned on traveling into town to
 watch the annual fireworks display, but after one fleeting, breathless
 glance into his eyes, I could of cared less about yankee doodle dandy.  I
 felt something, a passion, an urge, raw emotions, animal instinct.  Slowly,
 we drove back to his aunt and uncle's house, vacated because they had gone
 to their lake house for the holiday.

        We were alone.  Let your imagination go wild.

        When that summer came to a close, Josh had to go back to his college
 in the Mid-West.  I believe I shed tears off and on for a week, silly,
 girly, angstly, hot tears, that ran down my cheeks as I lay alone in bed.
 But I would never give up that summer for anything.

        Everybody needs a summer of uninhibited passion. 

        .................................................................. 
  /\_/\                                                                    * 
 ( o.o )  (c) Anada e'zine                        anada360  by Jersey Girl  o
  > ^ <                                                                     o
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