When you miss a moment before it’s gone you forget to enjoy it altogether. The following are exerpts from a piece written in 2017.
You couldn’t find a single frown in this part of town. Nobody went to last block, the anticipation got to us. From the first bonfire to the very last, whatever we could remember; everything that happened, happened with a smile.
Holding hands down the railroad track, every beating heart came together on the side where the sun waved to the waters. Time passed so slow but so fast at the same time, we felt nostalgic at the thought that summer will eventually fade into countdown days again.
The beauty of it all was that nobody knew each other well enough yet to find any flaws. Everyone laughed, everyone talked, everyone spent the longest days of the year together. Old enough to comprehend, young enough to not give a care. We searched for the best view of the light that sank into the sea (we were convinced that we lived in the best place on earth).
Prideful of this country we call Canada, our tie dye T-shirts were soon marked up with the names of every kid we found wandering the block. The night didn’t end when the strangers returned to their own homes; we brought the party back to the kid cave.
Everything’s silent when the colours go off. We could find excitement in every part of town; there were endless adventures waiting for us. The days meshed together into one great story. Sometimes, we wouldn’t even sleep because we didn’t want to miss a single moment of this life we lived. Because closing our eyes meant that we would miss a moment of the chapter. Because we ran on seaside scoops, not on sleep. Each day, we would find new parts of the neighbourhood to run around in.
The first dip into the lake, looking into the most beautiful sky you could dream of. Every colour of the rainbow reflected off of the dragon scaled clouds. When there was no light, that didn’t matter because our legs still took us to the coolest places. Wishing for the craziest requests, we believed that every single thing will eventually come true.
The little island surrounding Vancouver is home to tiger’s blood and kombucha thoughts. The journal we started is now a document of the times we claim as legendary. Still in the supervision of our parents, we found rebellion in the simplest ways.
Spending every shooting star on something we were so sure we wanted. Each scrape on our bodies was a tale that we kept with us. Gopro vision strapped to our wrists, capturing what I now know of as the best times we’ve lived.
So sad to leave but that’s what makes it so special. A memory so grand you miss it when it’s gone; such a blessing to feel empty when it’s all over. We know it’s not over because in 365 days, another chapter begins.
Little did we know, no other summer would match this one.
Olyvia Guo 