The longest day of the year has passed, from now it will only get darker up until Christmas. My father used to tell me about the Nordic midnight sun and how summer days would seem magically endless when he was little.
He would be quiet for a moment, then smile and tell me he'd take me there some day. There are as many stories as there are unkept promises, locked away in history, frozen in time like amber insects.
I don't know what he and mother talked about on that first trip they made together, but people that knew him said he came back a different man. A little less than a year later they bought the summer house where we would spend so many magical nights in the dark just waiting for the morning and the hazy daylight.