Just the first week.
The first week is unblemished. Perfect.
I begin my routine of staying up 'til one in the morning, I enjoy sun-filled afternoons, I walk through the hot tar on the roads, and I work on my summer goals.
This week has not let me down.
Zip lines were set up.
Mountain lion tracks were spotted.
Pointe shoes were worn.
(Many) Starbursts were roasted.
Snowcones were eaten.
Baseball t-shirts were received.
BYU boys were all proven to be ceaseless flirts.
Memories were placed lovingly in a box.
When I drive in my Beetle and stretch my hands up and out of my sunroof, I'm infected with the classic teenage epidemic: I become indestructible, breathtaking, infinite.
For one week, the sun seems endless, and so do I.