Honeysuckle grows along the fences that circled the field at my middle school. I hadn’t seen them before. One of the girls in my class teaches me how to taste them and I do it wrong. The taste is subtle but the mixture of its sweetness with the blazing Texas sun reminds me that summer is coming. 

Lily’s childhood home also grew honeysuckle. Her mother taught her the same thing. Pinch the base of the flower. Pull the stem. Suck. Summertime doesn’t feel quite as magical now in our mid-20s, but the memory helps.

I never felt as free as when I was a child in the summer. School was out and the sun stopped setting for the season. It was in the salty sweat, the harsh chlorine, the sweetness of summer fruit. It was in me and all around me.

The heat changes things. But the emotional complexities of early adulthood did bring a new sort of magic to the summer. There’s less of an opportunity to shirk off our responsibilities now so we’ve learned to use the heat as an excuse. I think of the drive from Los Angeles to Big Bear Lake with Lily and Qiqi last July. I think of the water and being sun-drunk at the local dive bar. The power blackout that got in the way of our dinner plans.

This theme is a study of these moments—of the seasons and all that they entail. How the change in temperature affects our bodies and minds. How the world comes to bloom again. How it melts. 

Welcome to Summertime.