I just bought a new song on iTunes, and it gave me a vivid flashback of summer. I miss it so much the more I think about it. The song is As the Rush Comes by Motorcycle, and listening to it, I can’t stop imagining the backroad of Tualatin to Wilsonville. 65th and Stafford were more than streets, they were memory makers. I can sense the slightly brisk airs of my late-night travels betweens cities. I would load my ATB CD into my 2000 Toyota Camry’s stereo, turn the volume up, roll down the windows, open the sunroof, and soak up the midnight freshness flooding the car. This feeling is so symbolic to me for some reason, perhaps one of the strongest remaining senses of summer, such that I hope this next summer I can rekindle this longing.