I told him that was a hard question, that I wasn't sure how to answer that. I told him maybe my past, ninth grade?
I guess it isn't that hard though.
"This view defines me," I could have said. "You know how it's 12:17 and it's dark but it's still hot? That defines me. If you looked up Shug in the dictionary it would say summer."
I could have told him that neither of us were wearing shoes, and that defines me. Orion and the Big Dipper and Cassiopeia. The sand lingering on my callused feet and the bottom of his rolled up slacks, hot asphalt, and being out too late. That's real life.
Everything else is just a dream.
A nightmare, more like, the kind of dream where you can never run fast enough.
"But this is so real, and we are so alive. There will always be another summer and I guess that defines me."
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