The year was 2002, the summer was particularly hot. I was sporting a short blonde crop and a new boyfriend from the annual summer job at the greenhouse. My new friend from Phys Ed suggested a road trip. It will be fun, she told me, smiling in her Jenny sort of way. With grace from my parents for the borrow of the black Jeep Cherokee (the essentially sexy road trip machine) a paper map highlighting our route from Edmonton to Kelowna and a few CDs we took off in the middle of August for a break to the Okanagan that would end up going down as one of the fondest road trip memories (obviously later the European road trips, the epic haul from Alaska or the extended BC coastal trip of earlier this Spring not withstanding this statement) of my young nineteen year old life.

Jenny and I drove through Jasper (pause to hike Mount Robson here) and onward to Kelowna, where our friend Jordan waited. He was living at his mom and dads house in between University years. We delighted in an extent of time together that included moonlight swims in a friends beautiful pool, lounging next to the lake house drinking beer and morning runs where Jenny would pound ahead, I would heave to keep up to her, sweat dripping and stinging my eyes. It was 26C at 8:45 in the morning.

It's Summer of 2010, and I am deep into my 100 Days of Summer, an August I am savouring to an extent of wishing desperately that time would stop and pause long enough for me to take photos of how everything is, because I am acutely aware that within a week my surroundings will be dramatically different. This very thought causes the breath to catch inside my throat and emotion to well in my eyes. I am back in Kelowna, on this week long pause, making prodigious attempts to enjoy every piece of fruit, every page of my book, every dip in the lake. To savour the moment by moment presence. The sun and sand and rolling hills and morning swims may be vastly different than the summer of eight years ago, but the difference I have observed, absorbed, relished in.

I have composed this blog from the stool of the island in Hillary and my kitchen, standing at a computer in staples, and now perched in a corner of Starbucks. My online work is near completion, and the sunshine outside beckons. There is a race to run. A bike to fix. A book to work on. A family waiting. Calves to stretch. Iced water and lemon to consume. And more time for thought.

Boucherie Beach, West Kelowna