Normal Summers Are Overrated - SoGS #11

In just one week, my yellow car has become a ray of sunshine in the community, attracting smiles and waves from neighbors and friends. It looks a little cuter every time I drive it, and I’ve started adding personal touches. Plus, I always have some extra flowers from work, hanging to dry by the rearview mirror and filling the car with fragrance.

And, of course, Ryleigh has her summer playlists to keep us going even as junior year looms in the distance.

Somehow, with my unforgettable first car and a summer of stories to tell, I have a feeling the upcoming school year will be completely different than what I’ve pictured. And, like my summer, maybe even better.

To celebrate an award-winning summer, I drive Ryleigh and myself to the beach, windows down and playlist blasting. The day is so beautiful, we decide to take the long way, past our favorite places we go.

I drive a little slower passing first Morning’s Glory, then Delamore Funerals. I know for sure I’m not meant to work at the florist anymore, because the funeral home feels like the place I belong. I’ve met so many people – and helped them through what may be the hardest time of their lives – just because Susan thought of me when she needed some extra help.

We pass Ultimate Boba while Ryleigh gives a quick rant about how they’re ending some of the summer flavors there. Outside Karl’s Cars, Will is checking the tire pressure of an old-looking Lexus, so I pull over to say a quick hi. I slow to a stop at a light next to the burger shop, smiling at the cheery signs for the library and animal shelter displayed up ahead. All these places hold so many fun memories from this summer.

Finally, asphalt transitions to gravel as we follow the twisting road lined with palm trees that leads down to the beach.

“Ella, can you slow down?” Ryleigh asks from the passenger seat. She points at something out her window, and I slow the car before glancing where she’s pointing. A field of bright sunflowers stretches as far as we can see, slightly hidden just behind a thin row of trees. Each one is tilted toward the sun, painting the whole landscape an impressive yellow-gold.

“Wow,” I breathe. “How come I never noticed that before?”

Ryleigh shrugs. “I guess we weren’t looking.”

A car drives up behind me, and I get back up to speed, glancing out the side mirrors as the field fades into a tiny gold dot.

“You know, I looked up the meaning of the sunflower the other day,” I say.

Ryleigh giggles. “After Will left you the one on your car?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know if it was him. He didn’t mention anything when I saw him on Wednesday, or today. And I didn’t want to make it awkward, so I didn’t ask.” I bite my lip. I probably should have asked him – after all, I can’t make things more awkward than when I first met him at Ultimate Boba, or when I followed him to his house earlier this summer. Maybe someday one of us will bring it up… or maybe, I’ll just never know. “Anyway, they symbolize loyal friendship, and wishes for good luck.”

“How sweet,” Ryleigh says thoughtfully, and I shoot her a look.

“It’s just interesting,” I reply. “Plus, I like knowing what they mean in case I ever give away the sunflowers coming up in my garden. They never fully revived back to life after I neglected them this year, but hopefully I can bring them back next summer.”

Ryleigh takes in a breath, closing her eyes and leaning back in her seat as warm air blows through the windows. “Next summer. I can’t wait.”

“Me either.”

Her eyes pop open. “I have to start planning our bucket list!”

I raise an eyebrow, flicking on my turn signal as we near the beach parking lot. “Already?”

She nods, her tone turning serious. “You didn’t know? I plan almost a year ahead.”

An idea strikes me as I pull through into a spot, watching as passersby glance at my yellow car with amused smiles. A grin forms on my own face as I open my door. “Don’t start planning just yet. I’m thinking we should do it a little differently next summer.”

Ryleigh meets my smug smile with a wide-eyed look of curiosity. “What do you mean by ‘different?’”

I step out into the sunshine, tote bag in hand. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

--

“It’s a pudding party!” My mom exclaims, setting a stack of glass bowls on the counter.

“A what?” I pull out a chair and sit at our kitchen island, taking the spoon Mom hands me.

My dad sits on a stool next to me. “I’m not sure, but I like pudding and I like parties.”

“A pudding party,” Mom repeats. “Remember that Mexican chocolate pudding I couldn’t get right? Well, I think I’ve perfected the recipe. And now it’s taste-testing time.”

“That was months ago,” I point out. “Don’t you usually perfect recipes sooner than that?”

Mom pulls her hair into a messy bun, then swings open the refrigerator door. “Yes, but with my new summer salad video series, I had to put the pudding on the back burner. No pun intended.” She sets a few pots on the counter, lifting each lid with a flourish. “And now I want your opinions.”

Dad raises his eyebrows. “You? Want our opinions?”

I gasp in fake shock, playing along. “Wow, Mom. This is a first.”

Mom ignores us, gesturing to each pot. “This one is a classic chocolate pudding. Then I did a cinnamon-spice one that includes cloves and allspice. And the third one is white chocolate.”

She spoons a generous amount of each into bowls, handing them out for us to try. After a first tentative sampling, Dad and I scoop heaping spoonfuls into our mouths. Mom looks all-too-delighted at our enthusiasm. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s delicious,” I declare, finishing my serving of cinnamon-spice chocolate pudding. “Not too sweet, not too spicy. Perfect for fall.”

Mom’s face lights up. “That’s what I was thinking! I’ll release these recipes as a fall series. Maybe I’ll do some pudding cakes or recipes kids can make, too.”

“Mom…” I take a quick bite of white chocolate pudding, letting out a satisfied mmm before looking up at my mom. “Do you think I could help with some recipes sometime? I ended up having a lot of fun baking with Ryleigh last week. Maybe you can teach me how to be a better baker? If you have time, of course.”

My mom’s dimples show as she smiles, her brown eyes sparkling. “I’d love that. I always have time for you, Ella. Pudding cake might be a little more complicated to start with, but how about chocolate chip cookies? Or a simple chocolate cake?”

“Sounds great.”

My dad chimes in, scraping his last bowl of pudding. “Two bakers will be a lot. How about you balance that out with a taste-tester? Maybe make this party a weekly thing?”

I nod. “We definitely should.”

My mom gasps. “I have an idea, Ella. Over the summer, you and Ryleigh try one new thing each week, right?”

I wince, thinking of all the new things we’ve tried in summers past. “Yeah. It’s a lot of fun.”

“Well, this winter how about I teach you one new recipe every week? Ryleigh can join, too, if she wants. Oh, and maybe your friend Will would want to join.”

I can’t help but laugh, meeting the hopeful sparkle in my mom’s eye with a smile of my own. Not sure if Will likes to bake, but I could probably convince Ryleigh to join. I can just see it: cozy winter treats, hanging out with friends, professional baking training! I let out a squeal of excitement at the idea. “That sounds like a lot of fun!”

--

I flop on my bed, grabbing the scrapbook I made a few weeks ago with Ryleigh and setting it next to a stack of newly printed photos. One shows me posing next to my new car, there’s another of Ryleigh and I with overflowing ice cream cones, and one from when we played on the playground with her brother James – all memories I want to keep forever. I paste each one into the book with care, writing a little description beside each.

A buzz sounds from my phone, and I flip it over to see an incoming text from Ryleigh. It’s a photo of us at the beach, framed by the setting sun. Our hair is messy and we’re dripping wet, and the photo is slightly blurry from trying to take a selfie while laughing, but the joy in our eyes is unmistakable.

Beneath the picture, Ryleigh’s sent a text: Is it just me, or has this been the best summer ever?

I think about that for a moment. This summer didn’t go the way I wanted it to, or the way I planned it. We’ve had a lot of fun summers in the past, and most weren’t nearly as awkward as this one. Is it possible that in sixteen years, my summer of let-downs could actually be my favorite?

I type out a message in response.

If a “best summer ever” is even a thing, this is the one.