Taps at my window.

I just turned to look at him. There was something about the pale, dusky light pouring from the window that made his eyes sparkle with unspoken words. They looked hollow, in such a full way - as if he had so many things he wanted to say, but he knew it wasn't the right time. The stupidly ridiculous hat was perched on his head, causing the long buried memories of summer to come flooding back. They had been stored in a box at the back of my mind, just to stop them teasing me whilst the rain fell and the skies were grey. Him sat in that net backed hat threw me violently into my little gemmed orange dollies, sat on the park bench in the fading light of the summer days. Messing nervously with my hands in my lap, paying no attention to the large group of summer-drunk teens by my side, who knew their claim to the innocence of youth was dimming. Awkwardly focusing on the scuffs on my toes and the dirt on my heels, from yesterdays episode with the long grass and the murky ponds, my naive head was swimming with the expectations and the love for the ever fading holidays. Nobody needed to say a word, but we all knew it was the summer of our lives. The summer for firsts, lasts and in betweens. The summer of irreplaceable feelings of belonging and inclusion. Our daily rituals had become somewhat of a culture, causing the holidays to become useless in terms of a break from school and brighter in terms of it becoming our way of life. So sitting with tanned arms and grazed knees on that bench was no different from the routine of previous days. The feeling i felt for him then, complimented the grassy air and the cracked paving flags. It grew stronger, much like the bonds formed with the people who surrounded me. As summer filled our heads, romance filled our hearts. Some more than others.
By the end of the seemingly eternal vacation, hearts were broken and dignities fixed. As the school year started, the dreams and wishes ended of a summer that seemed to prove that anything was possible. Studies started, along with the winter winds and the forgotten chills of the all important rain storms. The desire for cheap alcohol turned into the need for hot chocolates and warm milk. We swapped our immodest skirts for umbrellas and our neck scarfs for woolen knits. As the fashion of the vibe changed, one thing didn't. Of all the comings and goings and the inconsistencies that summer held, one thing remained. It was him.
I knew by looking into his eyes, there and then in the pale dusky light pouring from the window, he knew it. He knew that the events and the drama of the months before and weeks after our well-spent summer holidays didn't matter. Regardless of it, there was one thing that we had spread further than any of the frisbees we threw in the sun or the races we ran on the grass. I knew what his eyes were saying. I hope he knew what mine were replying.
Darling, i love you as much in gloves and scarfs than i did in trucker hats and tank tops.