228 days, 11 hours, 12 minutes, and 18 seconds until the summer I thought would never be a reality arrives: the final summer.

The final summer of careless days spent with my friends that I’ve known for years in the humid, bug-spray-filled nights. The final summer getting cherry slushies with my brother from the gas station. The final summer where Ada still seems huge to me. The final summer before my Forest Hills bubble pops. The final summer before my life changes. 

But, what if I’m not ready for it to change?  I would kill for more time to enjoy the days spent doing absolutely nothing while the sound of the lawn mower fills my room or to pick the wild blueberries that grow on the edge of our property. 

For as long as I can remember, I’ve always spent my summers trying to be older. Tagging along with my older brother and wishing I could drive by myself and have a space to call my own. Now that the time has come, I’m not ready to say goodbye. 

I’m not ready to experience the last firsts of everything. My last Christmas break, my last first day of high school, and the last time I’ll get to call Ada my home.

 My world is going to open up, but with that, it’s shattering the reality I live in now. The days spent by the lake watching the creamsicle sunset in a far distance are ones I’m going to achingly miss. The frisbee and Wiffle ball tournaments me and my brother held in our backyard. The family fires we held and made the most incredible s’mores you can imagine, but I’d never give my secret recipe away.

Why did I ever wish to grow up? 

We still have prom and graduation and one last summer to make the most of our wild nights, but it’s a bittersweet feeling knowing that it’s the last.

As I drive around our quaint town, I take in all the beauty that I overlooked before, whether it’s a family walking their dog or fresh flowers being sold on the corner. 

If there’s anything senior year has taught me, it’s to not rush things; to take happiness in the simple times; to stop longing for something in the future and enjoy the gift of the present. 

Although I still have 10 months until I say my goodbyes, I find myself scared. Scared of the discomfort. Scared of leaving everything I’ve ever known behind; yet, I remind myself you only grow from challenges, and I will overcome the change. So, here’s to the bittersweet three months of pureness I have left in Ada. You have served me well, summer; please make this last one count.