Written by Nina Mohor, 12

3rd Place in our Summer Writing Contest over on our Outreach Page

Answering the prompt, “A Perfect Summer Day”

Over the sleepy town of Gangurru, the brilliant sun rose, casting long, golden rays across the dew-speckled grass. It was the kind of day that promised comfort-the air warm but not heavy and the sky a perfect canvas of blue.

Aida stepped out onto the porch with a slice of the juiciest watermelon in one hand and her sketchbook in the other. Her hair was up in a messy knot, intertwined with a worn pencil. The scent of basil and eucalyptus drifted from the garden tickling her nose as juice ran down her chin. In the distance, the muted chirp of the young bluebirds and the occasional bark of a dog threaded through the hush of morning mist, a gentle reminder that even silence has its own song. This was it-today. No obligations, no school, just living life to the fullest.

She wandered down the gravel path to the lake, her toes kicking up tiny clouds of dust. The water shimmered like glass; inviting and serene. Ducks paddled idly near the tangled reeds, and dragonflies zipped through the air. Aida settled beneath the old willow tree, its branches swaying like a lullaby-gentle and soothing. She undid the messy knot of hair and began to sketch.

Her pencil danced across the page, capturing the curve of the shoreline, the dock, the way the light kissed the ripples. Time drained away. Hours passed unnoticed, marked only by the shifting shadows and the occasional giggle of children splashing nearby.

By noon, the heat had climbed, and Aida switched her sketchbook for a swim. The lake was cool and still, wrapping around her like silk. She floated on her back, eyes closed, letting the sun warm her face. It was the kind of peace that felt earned, like a reward for simply being present.

Later, she met her friends at the meadow just beyond the narrow woods. They brought lemonade in mason jars, sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, and a radio, that played old summer tunes. Amongst the grass was hundreds of daisies, tickling their feet, as they chased each other around with wild laughter. They were happy.

As the sun dipped low, painting the sky in streaks of orange and violet, they built a small fire. Marshmallows roasted to golden perfection, sticky fingers and smoky smiles. Aida leaned back against a log, watching the stars blink into existence one by one.

A kookaburras call eased into silence and the world felt impossibly wide yet small all at once.

When the fire dwindled, Aida began to walk home under the moon’s gentle gaze. Her skin was sun-kissed, and her heart full.

It wasn’t a day of grand adventures or great escapes. It was simple. Pure. A day of warmth, friendship, and the beauty of being alive.

And as she curled into bed, the scent of lake water still clinging to her hair, Aida pondered the idea of what life would be like if all days where like this. She smiled, and closed her eyes.

Translations

• Gangurru – Aboriginal word for kangaroo. Likely used as the name of the town to hint at an Australian setting.
• Kookaburra – A native Australian bird known for its distinctive laughing call, often heard at dawn or dusk.