I feel myself resonate with the scene as though it were yesterday...the three of us in the old Chevelle, en route to some riverside bonfire or similar powwow. The night air smells like adventure. Life's been rough lately but it's still good; coffee, clove cigarettes, and the camaraderie of our small crew will get us through.
It's a deceptively old memory. What happened to those days? Latch on, and they fade into mere shadow. Let go, and they slowly drift away.
Now, gazing back, they invoke an irrepressible, melancholy ache...and my energy cascades out of the newly-punched hole.