The summer began without any reason for me to suspect it would be my last.
Even without knowing anything that would happen in the next two months because of my choices, just the simple act of coming back to Colborne was enough to bring on its own brand of nerves. The moment my car rolled past the crooked roadside sign welcoming me to the small town, I felt my heart rate speed up. I couldn’t tell whether it was mostly due to anxiety or excitement, but I did know that all it took was crossing the town border for a part of me to come alive that had lain dormant for the past few years.
I pushed my fingers through my hair, moving the long, tousled strands off my face. I was driving with the windows down, and now that I was finally off the highway, the roaring wind had died down to a soft, warm June breeze. My phone was plugged into the car radio, and I had an old Kanye sound blasting at full volume, so loud that bass made the seats hum. The noise made me feel a little less alone, which was hard to avoid during the long drive through the winding coastal roads. As I careened onto the smaller residential streets, though, I shut off the music, knowing how disapproving families were of loud rap—at least before nightfall.