We took our shoes off and danced.
Some dad band with that one hit played. Their name or its name, I don't know, I can never remember. I spun and spun and spun; the world kept moving long after I fell to the earth, grass tickling my neck and back arched towards the sky — you can fit more laughs in your belly that way.
We soaked our lemonade with vodka, the sugar pooling at the bottom. We passively gave the sun permission to slap our foreheads red. We tell others about this, but it leaks out of their ears, as we were there and they weren't and words serve little justice for those moments when vulnerability ditches its weakness for something greater, causing you to stop and stare — at both nothing and everything — for a second to realize that yes, yes, yes this is real life.
Is there any greater feeling than that of abandon?