Running barefoot through the neighbor’s front yards, ripping blades of grass out with each step.

Kicking a worn soccer ball through the field.

Wearing winter pants that were lovingly but jaggedly cut into shorts by your mom.

An oversized soccer jersey with the name of a player you’ve never heard of on your back.

The friends you’ve known for years drenched in sweat and running alongside you.

The air is so humid you could bottle and drink it.

Cicadas call, the sound blaring like sirens in the trees.

And grasshoppers calling back from the ground, 

Creating a symphony of life, all hidden away.

The disappointment grows into a pit in your stomach, knowing its almost time to go home.

The sudden burst of light from the street lamps acting as an alarm for you.

Walking home through the grass, unknowing that this image would be burned into your memory.