Thought.is

Every year, for three weeks in July, my younger brother and I would wake up before sunrise. We’d pack our lunch boxes and drive to the school parking lot where an old rented school bus would take us to the field of the day. I remember those early mornings as a haze: 30-or-so tired kids sitting silently on a bus, praying that the drive would be just a little longer and watching as the sun lifted over the horizon like a boiling egg yolk.