Churros.

In central Florida July is hot. No that's wrong. It's not just hot. It's a miserable hellscape of mosquitoes, fire ants, gators, water moccasins (not a shoe) and other undiscovered horrors.

To ease that misery every year my grandmother Evie would cut up huge watermelon and put them into jars. My siblings and I would tear through them like a weed eater through thin grass. Coated in sugar, or salt, or the best seasoning of all, Tajin.

For the longest time I thought this was the summer delight. Not much different from the Narnia Turkish delight, if I was asked at the time to betray my siblings for some of grandma's summer watermelon, it wouldn't have even been a thought.

Things changed in the summer of '05.

My older siblings moved out of the house. I didn't welcome that change, but it was easier to take then what happened the very next summer.

In 2006 my grandmother's lung cancer had reached it's peak and she passed away. Her funeral was an event. My Aunt Cindy told story after story of her mom, and it was at times hard to picture Grandma Evie as the rockstar folks claimed her to be. People I had never met, told me how sorry they were for my loss. 'She was the life of the party', by some, 'a real superstar' - it sounded like she was a movie and these were the critics reviewing everything. Everyone gave a two thumbs up.

Watermelon wasn't the same. I mean sure it still tasted good, the juices, the salt, but there was something about Grandma Evie with her big cutting knife who would sing Patsy Cline in the kitchen as she cut. "Craaazy, I'm crazy for feeeelin' so lonely" I can still hear her voice cut against the old cassette player. I preferred grandma's voice. I preferred grandma's watermelon.

I started high school soon after, and the memories grew thick with time. I didn't forget her of course, but the pain was starting to dull as I made new friends, talked to new people, had new experiences.

I got my first girlfriend, broke up with my first girlfriend, got my second girlfriend (same girl) and got broken up with by my second girlfriend. All in all, a lot of changes.

That summer, the summer of '07 would be my first summer without her. Without the lady that made summer jars of watermelon. To take my mind off of things my grandpa signed me up for summer camp. I think it was partially so he could watch football without being bothered, but I digress.

Josh, Michelle, Tracy, and myself. The four amigos. The four trouble makers. Best friends, for life. Those titles, and relationships all started that summer.

"Dibs on the top bunk" Josh said. I didn't mind because I hated the idea of having to climb into bed every night. Plus heights.

"Hey do you like Dragon Ball Z?" I asked. I had seen one of his shirts the day before and it was a friendship forged in the fire of cartoon watching from then on. We ended up skipping a lot of the camp sessions (archery, horseback riding, jumping off of the floating dock) to go watch t.v. on his phone.

We got caught of course, and got put on extra duties around the camp. Helping out with dishes after meals, helping prep meals, cleaning up the main hall after game nights, serving other kids from the snack shack. All the things that realistically they should've had paid staff for.

Michelle and Tracy were on a similar schedule, but they volunteered. They were the yin to our yang. The sugar to our salt, the watermelon to our Tajin. When Josh and I would goof off, they would be the first ones to reprimand us.

"You can't lick the spoon for frosting if you're going to keep using it," Tracy told Josh one time when she caught him doing the unthinkable. I actually found it gross too, but the icing did look good.

"Don't freak out, I'll wash it," He'd say, and then continue to just lick it. Steph, the camp employee in charge of the kitchen put Josh on permanent dish pit.

Occasionally I would dip my finger in the frosting for the dessert, stuff was delicious. I stole Josh a cup of it for later once too. When I eventually got caught, I had to start wearing an apron with daisies on it. Honestly, I think I rocked it.

"Hey do you guys wanna come over and watch t.v.?" Josh asked Tracy and Michelle. Due to our schedule all the other campers were always doing something else, and us four were usually left to our own devices.

Really when you think about it, we got punished, and then rewarded with the time to do the things that we got punished for in the first place. Crazy.

"We're not allowed over on the boy's side." Tracy said. Even Michelle looked a little upset by her goodie-two-shoes-ness.

"That's fine, we'll watch it in here. After Steph leaves, no one ever comes into the kitchen." Josh said. He had a small key dangling from his forefinger. He acted like he stole it, which left the girls half-impressed, half-mad. I knew for a fact that Steph had given it to him because he took forever to do the dishes.

That night we stayed up late into the night watching all manner of Youtube videos and I don't think we actually ever got around to watching t.v. or any actual shows. We were busy being teenagers, eating leftover frosting, and enjoying every minute of it.

It was two weeks until the end of camp, and we realized that we had actually become friends. The yin and the yang. The Tajin, and the watermelon. Mixed, and better together. The girls never broke any rules per se' but they stopped asking for permission to do every little thing. Josh and I in return actually worked pretty hard those last few weeks of summer camp.

So much so that Steph decided to reward us by telling us a great secret.

"In the freezer there is a lot of frozen food that won't keep until next summer, why don't you kids figure out what to do with it." We loved Steph. Our mom away from moms.

Don't ask me how Josh got it into his head, I think he was probably Lewis and Clark's lost soul trapped into the body of a teenage redhead.

"Why don't we go out into the middle of the lake, on the floating dock?" He asked.

There weren't any rules prohibiting it, because no one would be that stupid. There were gators in the lake, and nothing powering the dock to make a quick getaway if we needed one.

He convinced us that we would be totally safe because the pontoons would make it so that no gator could crawl up on the dock in the middle of the lake (later discovered to be a lie). That we could paddle it pretty fast if we needed to (more of an overestimation). Lastly he knew a lot about gators and this time of year gators were very calm (it was mating season).

Convinced of his expertise we agreed and decided to get out there.

After all the work was done one night, Steph left us to our castle that most called the kitchen, and we went to work. We got all of the appropriate safety gear, and piled it on the dock, and then Tracy had the best idea of all.

"Let's take churros." She said.

"What are those?" I asked. Which was a fatal question. The kind of question that makes everyone else go "What?" "I feel sorry for you!" "How have you not had the same experience as me?" type of sayings.

"That's it. Tracy get the box." Josh said.

Tracy disappeared into the freezer and came out with a foot long box filled with these skinny brown burrito looking things. They were cinnamon fried pastries rolled into long thin logs, that I now know to be a churro.

We warmed them up in the oven and decided that we could each eat probably twenty or thirty, so we took hundreds with us. Our arms each held smaller boxes of churros as we made our trek out to the floating dock.

The night was warm, and calm. We paddled for what seemed like a half an hour and wound up in the middle of a glass clear lake, the moon reflected. I'm not poetic by nature, but if you'll indulge me, it looked as if we were enraptured in a perfect moment of twilight and moonshine where the heavens meet earth and we were caught in the embrace. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life, and I felt like if I breathed a little too hard I would ruin it.

Josh broke the silence by munching on his first churro.

We all followed suit, and wow. Those little cinnamon pastries went perfect with the atmosphere. Chewy, fulfilling, and sweet. Also sticky, and none of us had thought to bring napkins. Good thing we were near some water.

We talked about our dreams, and where we would go after high school. We talked about being friends for the rest of our lives. We talked, and talked, and ate churros. Before we knew it, dawn was breaking over the tops of the trees on that lake, and we weren't tired at all.

We paddled back so we could make it before breakfast, taking the remainder of our food with us. For maybe a snack later.

I didn't really go out of my way in the years after that to get churros. It's probably been years since I've had them at this point.

But when I think about the moments in my life that I could relive if any, my mind goes back to the middle of a lake, with my best friends in the whole world. I remember laughter and the not-so-subtle magic of youth, and churros.