The Forty Files

There’s no pretty way to put this…I grew up in the suburbs. I guess most people think of the suburb as a place with all the disadvantages of the city, and none of the advantages of the country. And vice versa. But, in a way, those really were the wonder years for us there in the suburbs. It was kind of a golden age for kids.–The Wonder Years

I love suburban summers. I loved them as a child and I still love them as an adult. There’s something so special about the simple joy unearthed from a cheap popsicle. There’s hope for a lame looking sprinkler to become a star during an unbearable heat wave. In short, summer shines like no other season.

This year did me in. All the things happened, and while I love an eventful calendar, my burnout is real. So this summer I am vowing to return to my own wonder years.

My favorite part about The Wonder Years was its ability to unearth and elevate the ordinary. It was a situational display of navigating emotion and extracting humanity to be a forerunner in every arena and endeavor. There was nothing glamorous or elaborate about the stories, but the people who told them felt relatable and lovable. Their wonder was within the ordinary, and that’s what I desperately desire for my summer.

So here’s to the slip and slide, reading on the patio, iced tea, the sound of the ice cream truck, a sticky s’more, and whatever other symbol of summer comes my way.

Tis a reason of restoration. What a wonder it is!