Standing at the corner, I paused for not more than a few seconds. The corner of Mount Auburn and John F. Kennedy. Carrying a bag of soft drinks and instant noodles, I stood staring at the flashing traffic signal as the small drops of rain fell tapping to the sidewalk. Society was out, and people swayed through the current of humid air, an air that lent itself to the smell of society, a smell of soft rain, congestive humidity and friendly energy. The intersection slowed, and in those seconds of humid air, dripping rain and flashing lights, a slow flash of a smile concealed itself. The streetlights cast a dim, dull golden light over the brick sidewalk, the inviting glow of a summer night.
Ten minutes later, the same glow would leak out of a room not far from the intersection, merriment and mirth echoing out from the windows cracked open to let in the rare burst of cool but still humid air. Fourth floor, middle door. Five friends, with the world before them, two decks of the-smooth-plastic-coating-wearing-off cards and some just-so-slightly-worn poker chips. The laughter followed each hand, each success and each jest. Each card a friendly word, off-white from use with the diamonds and hearts still there and each chip a smile or a laugh passed from me to him to her to him to her. Every night, the friends gathered the world before them, dealt it out and tossed its cards, to its surprise and their joy. For those nights, the world before us was all we needed, those cards, chips and companions.
It had been two years since when we last shared a laugh and a few months since summer had gone by. Cal State Fullerton, at the place where the one streetlight throws its weak glow pitifully past the scarce branches of trees next to the parking lot. The air was crisp, yet still held some reminiscent bit of the warm summer breeze as it swept slowly by me. A quick glance and I spotted her, framed by the dim light, and with a quick wave two old friends crossed a distance of a sidewalk, two planters, some grass, and years. A few questions, meek smiles and the crisp air and darkness melted out into the breeze. The warmth of summer fleetingly returned, winding its way in and out of the conversation. Time grew lazy for those smiles and laughs, and let them slip through its grasp.
Time doesn't wait, sharing the impatience of the fall as it yellows leaves and gives the air a crisp chill. Yet summer has the ability to not arrest the passage of time; it disregards it. It gives those flashes of joy and echoes of laughter and whispers of friendship their own glowing rooms, away from the rush of time's city outside. I'm sure I will have great moments in my life, filled with achievement and praise. Yet those are all fleeting, yellowed pages and leaves of the past. I will never seek out Mount Auburn and John F. Kennedy, or attempt to recreate that fourth floor room. I will be here, not waiting, but letting the summer breeze whisper past, the light of a smile there for an instant.