Cicada

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I’m lying on the couch listening to a cicada humming outside in the front yard. An odd thing to be thankful for — but the throbbing “whir, whir, whir” hits a nostalgic note. It makes me think of all summers. Summers spent swimming in lakes, staying up past midnight reading, sleeping in and eating grandpa’s waffles for breakfast. I love how the sound unspools a whole thread of memories that were dormant. I love memories of summer when summer was simple.

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