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The Summer of 2016

A symbol of naivety and innocence.

By Shyne KamahalanPublished 2 years ago 6 min read
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The Summer of 2016
Photo by Nelly Antoniadou on Unsplash

"It's too cold," I mutter with a genuine irritation. The light droplets of water on my right foot feel electrifying in comparison to the temperature on the rest of my body, regardless of how fast I tried to get the graze of my skin away from our apartment pool. I stand in my rather childish swimsuit, arms crossed, and brows furrowed, the immediate refusal to let myself be devoured by the water the very epitome of my being, or so I thought.

With the slightest bit of sneaky pressure to my mid-back, I realize I'm falling, but it's too late. The blue hue of the water pulls me in for an unexpected hug, taking me down below its surface. I push against it, my hair sticking to my cheeks when I reach oxygen again. I know exactly what had happened, and I know I have to call her out on it. My childhood friend had pushed me in, and she was snickering at the so-called pain she had put me through. I roll my eyes. "How dare you! What'd I ever do to you to deserve that?"

"Oreo?" She's still laughing, but she gets out a word. In her hand, she's holding on out toward me, beckoning me to get get out and accept it from her. I remain defiant in the three foot of the pool, too immature to be willing to give her what she wants so quickly. She shrugs, this time putting emphasis in her voice. "Come on! Forgiveness cookie?"

"Alright," I agree hesitantly. I sit up onto the ends of the pool, my feet to my shins still dangling in the water, kicking at it lightly. She sits down next to me, the seal of the package already pulled back, ready for me to take my share. I steal one quickly and let it sit between my teeth. "But I'm not letting you off so easily next time."

"But you will though. You know you will."

"I won't."

"You always do."

"Nuh-uh," I insist, and I give her a shove, pushing her into the pit that she pushed me into. I have a moment of understanding. It does feel pretty empowering to watch her flop around in the water, and to give me that disapproving stare of play-hatred. I get why she's always after those opportunities when it came to me.

Why, it's the summer of 2016.

Every fan on our apartment is on to full power, the sound of it seems to echo deeper and deeper into our ears. I experience an overload of everything going on around me, and I pout in my room with a book atop of my face. I've never been much of a reader back then, and with everything being a distraction in the moment, I didn't intend for anything to change that. "Curse the stupid summer reading program," I say beneath my breath. "Why don't teachers let us have summer to ourselves?"

My sister flings the door to my room wide open. On instinct, I intend to complain about how she's bothering me and she needs to shut the door, even though I know darn well she won't, especially after I request it, but before I have the chance to do any of that, she takes a step in, and another, and another, and another. The closer she gets, I can see the tiniest bit of cookie crumble on the outer edge of her lips, and in her hands, that very, very familiar package. "Oreo?"

Without a word, I take a handful, solely out of spite, and to irritate her into not having an equal share, all in one swipe. Over the years, I had become quite the professional at doing that. Her bottom lip protrudes. I tumble off my bed in laughter of how fast she was impacted by something so little. "Give me at least two of those. That's not fair."

I sit up straight. "What? No! Why would I?"

The book-worm of a sister I have smirks. "I'll read the book out loud to you. I've always wanted to read that book anyway. Your teacher gave you some good picks."

"Fine," I decide, handing her three for bonus points in the future. She takes a look at the "payment" and smiles, the book cover in her palms. She begins to read. Every bit of stress exits from my body.

Why, it's the summer of 2016.

My phone lights up in the dark. It's midnight, and I was supposed to be in bed hours ago. It's my next door neighbor, alerting me that she's in the apartment's hallway, waiting for me, so we can gossip until we get too tired to keep our eyes open. Without a sound, especially when passing by my parent's bedroom door, I make my way to her. The adrenaline from the rebellion gives me energy and serves to the motive of my every step. As she said, there she was, waiting for me, a bag of snacks in her hand.

I step out into the hallway, instantly hit by the coolness of the air conditioners, as our own had chose the worst time ever to stop working for us. I plop down onto the floor and appreciate that for a moment. The brilliant blue package catches my eye as she sets the options down upon the floor. I open it without asking, knowing that she doesn't mind, and we eat it together, row after row after row, without a single care in the world. We gobble it up like drunkards do to their beer, and not once do we look back.

"I have a crush on this guy," my neighbor announces. "He has the prettiest, most lovely blue eyes, the blondest hair, and I can just stare at him forever."

And I chew faster as I listen to the gossip, ready to hear more, and ready to tell her even more about the guy I had a crush on too.

Why, it's the summer of 2016.

But the thing is, it's not the summer of 2016 anymore. We are well into our way into 2022. Things have changed. I've twirled my entire being into doing well as I fight for my college degree. I work as hard as I can to support myself to reach my goals, and complain at night when I wish I made more money, praying that someday I will, so I can pull my weight if I can have a family one day. I watch what I eat more than I ever did before, because I care maybe too much about my body image, but most of all my health. I know well enough that I won't be able to finish as much as I did when I was younger and still function semi-properly throughout the day.

I rarely pick up an Oreo anymore, but when I do, I can't help but be filled with this sudden burst of serotonin. I realize that even though so much has changed that in me somewhere, I am still the same. I'm forgiving, and generous and rebellious and a gossiper -- I'm all the things I was.

I am me. All those moments have made me, me.

And still, I miss the summer of 2016.

friendship
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About the Creator

Shyne Kamahalan

writing attempt-er + mystery/thriller enthusiast

that pretty much sums up my entire life

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