• The smell of pine brings me nostalgic thoughts of windy roads, ocean air, and the freedom of irresponsibility.

    Empty cans littered the patch of land we slept on and when we awoke in the morning our hair smelled of smoke. Groggily we would trot towards the beach and bask in the sun not caring about emails or homework or cleaning our rooms or anything that had chained us down before. At dusk we would cook whatever we could find and have nonsensical talks of hypothetical lottery winnings.

    Coyotes would howl and we would listen to their stories. Bats would swoop towards us and we would dance with them. One drink would endlessly flow into the next and before we knew it we’d fall into star gazing. Just like our drinks the sky seemed endless.

    Eventually we had to leave our sanctuary and return to the real world. It’s a wonderful thing that our friendship has these memories. They are ours and nobody else’s and they’re as beautiful as the infinite stars that we had the privilege of staring upon.