familiar landscapes

One of these days, I'm going to wake up one morning and it won't be to the train whistle or bouncing basketballs at 8am. I won't have to drag myself to sit and listen to conceited professors who think that their class is the only class that matters.. 
It's something about that summer state of mind that makes me think everything will be okay, whether it's for the day, the week, or for three whole months of endless sunshine.
Fresh cut grass, the breeze as it rips through my car with all the windows down. Watching the sun set over the outdoor theater, handstands on Riviera Beach, ivy covered brick. Music carrying across the Milwaukee Harbor, late nights on back porches, Lake Shore Drive shut down for bikes. SPF 5 and crossed fingers that the sun won't burn today. Plane rides to the east coast, freshly caught lobster, and trying to miss the flight home. Late nights and late mornings, with little regard to anything but the here and now. 
I hit a brick wall in the beginning of April and realized that there was little to no hope that I'd be productive for the rest of the school year. I can't think of anything but the seventh inning stretch, how comfy the deck chairs at home are when it's 85 degrees and sunny, or what it's like to eat corn on the cob covered in butter. There's little left to do now but wait as the days tick past and my favorite time finally begins...