I was just slicing watermelon in the kitchen, when a large drop of watermelon juice rolled off the cutting board, and took a dive off the edge of the marble counter, landing with a cool, voluptuous splash across my right foot. 

In that instant, all past summer moments of dipping my big toe into the ocean, the pool, the lake before jumping in, came rushing up from my foot, through my muscles, in between my shoulder blades, finally wrapping my temples in a gentle cloud of fresh mist. And I felt the calming rush of relaxation and bliss that only the carefree days of June through August can inspire. 

Who knew feet could be so nostalgic?