Summer memories.
Waking up in the wee, dark hours to pile with the family into the car for a road trip to a much longed for destination, far from home.
Giddily catching lightning bugs from the time we were very young.
Playing flashlight tag with all the neighborhood kids (before everyone fenced in their yards).
Caravans of neighbors’ families enroute to a delightful play day at the lake of Tobyhana in the Pocono Mountains.
Hiking or picnicking around Washington’s Crossing State Park.
Riding bicycles for hours with friends, making up stories in our own little world as we pretended to be 'all grown up' (we were quite young then); stopping home for lunch and returning just in time for dinner,
Splashing and swimming at the crowded community pool a few blocks from home, where we could bring all of our inflatable pool toys.
Spontaneous neighborhood picnics.
Burlingame State Park, Rhode Island, the site of our first family camping trip.
Many, many trips to the Jersey Shore, especially Sea Isle City and Ocean City. Smelling salt water in the air as we got closer. Feeling the breeze of the bay as we crossed. Sun too bright to keep our eyes wide open. Hot sand on bare feet, cold water wildly rushing up to meet us. Body surfing. Baking on a blanket for hours. Boardwalk gaiety day or night.
Time to read fave books like the Nancy Drew series.
Sheer abandonment.
Creativity.
Light.
Laughter.
Fun.
Freedom.
What are some of your summer memories? How do they make you feel?
3 comments:
Great thoughts. You must have had a truly inspiring childhood. Let's see. My fondest summer memories. A hot July day in Pennsylvania. Staying in the Navy Lodge in Newport, RI. Chasing chickens in Sturbridge, Mass.
Who: The neighborhood chums of childhood.
What: The Pow Wow
When: Hot summer nights
Where: A seated circle on our driveway under the moon. Our fire: the magical blinking of the lightening bugs and the crackle of June bugs hitting the street lights. Our camp songs: the chirp of crickets, humm of cicadas and barks of distant dogs
Why: Because we could. No school.
How: Because our parents let us. No school.
I'm there with you, Sheila!
Post a Comment