Brand New

Every one of my 16 mosquito bites (17, since you count my tattoo every time) reminds me of you- of trampolines, of obnoxious boys who make admirable attempts to get along with me, of gas station food, of never being able to keep my shoes (sandals) on for longer than five minutes. And every single day this week has been nothing less than amazing, despite the whisperings, despite the comments that turn the moment from natural and comfortable to awkward and weird. I could spend every moment with you: getting lost on the way to Newburyport; ice cream at 9 PM; falling asleep on your bed. I'm so excited that I have all of this to look forward to, for the rest of the summer.