The Best Summer

The sun was out, the sky was painted in hues of blue, and the days felt as if they stretched on forever. It was the first day of summer break, and I had just tossed my school backpack deep into the closet with no intention of touching it again for the next two months.

Unlike past vacations spent in front of a screen or travelling from one relative's house to another, this summer was mine — truly mine. I had one goal: to enjoy every second of it under the open sky, barefoot on the grass, living slowly and breathing deeply.

Each morning, I woke up to the sound of chirping birds and the gentle rustle of leaves. I’d head straight to the backyard with my favorite book, a glass of mango juice, and a straw hat that barely fit my wild curls. I would lie on the checkered mat, just like the one you see in summer storybooks, and let the sun kiss my skin while I read tales that transported me to enchanted lands and faraway beaches.

But books weren’t the only joy. This summer, I discovered the simple magic of doing nothing — just watching the clouds float by or counting how many butterflies visited the hibiscus plant. I made friends with the neighborhood cat, whom I named Captain Whiskers, and he’d often nap beside me like a fluffy guardian of my lazy kingdom.

Every afternoon, I rode my bicycle to the community park, where laughter echoed from the swings and the scent of blooming jasmine filled the air. Sometimes, I’d meet my best friend Aarav there, and we’d invent obstacle courses with sticks and stones, pretending to be adventurers in a jungle.

But the best part of each day was the golden hour — that moment just before sunset when everything turned honey-coloured. That’s when I’d lie back on my mat, arms behind my head, legs stretched out, and just breathe. That one hour made the whole summer magical. It was when I felt most alive, most free, most myself.

My parents were surprised. I wasn’t asking for gadgets or television time. I wasn’t bored or restless. They saw me glow in the simplest moments — when I painted rocks, made lemonade, or learned to whistle using a blade of grass. Even the electricity went out one night, and instead of whining, I sat with them under the stars, making up stories about the constellations.

By the end of summer, I hadn’t gone on a fancy trip or done anything Instagram-worthy. But I had a tan that told a story, a notebook full of doodles and poems, and a heart full of memories that made me smile in my sleep.

That summer didn’t just pass by — it stayed with me.

It was, without a doubt, my best summer.