I Remember, Summer Edition by Liz Flaherty

Confession. I am not a summer girl. It is my least favorite of the seasons--well, it and January/February (They have a season of their own, right?) 

But, like Jana from last week, I remember. Yes, I am old, which means two-thirds of my sentences start with I remember. The other third starts with I've forgotten. 

In no particular order...

I remember the first summer of wearing a two-piece swimsuit. I bought it myself with babysitting money. My mother was not happy. 

From https://www.glamoursurf.com/

We lived in a very small house, and I remember Sundays when all the family came around and we would eat outside because the house was too hot and crowded. The watermelon would cool all day in a washtub of cold water straight from the pump, and we would slurp down slabs of the pink flesh in midafternoon, spitting seeds. Actually, my brothers spit seeds. I likely didn't have my front teeth at the time, and could neither spit nor whistle. 

I lived on a farm, so contrary to the lyrics of "Summertime," the livin' was never particularly easy. I remember that my mother never stopped moving. Although my dad's day ended, hers didn't. Even now, I don't know how she did it. I do know that the woman who grew up in the city fell in love with the country when she married my father--or maybe before--and although times were harder than I can bear to recall, I do remember that love she had for living in the the cornfields. I have it, too. 

I remember that first summer after graduation. I'd been so hungry for freedom, for the privacy that life at home lacked, for going where I wanted to go when I wanted to go there. And, you know what?--I loved it. I wasn't good with money, so I was constantly robbing Peter to pay Paul, changing jobs, and making plans I never brought to fruition. But I loved being just who I was--I'd been only someone's daughter and someone's sister for 18 years, and being myself was wonderful. Not that I was wonderful...or even close...but being an adult was. For me, at least.

I remember summer droughts, summer rains, the summer the last two of my brothers who lived at home married. I loved my sisters-in-law, but didn't like being the only kid at home. 

I remember beach vacations. We still do them sometimes and I still love them. The more family there, the better. 

I remember summer driver's education. The four of us in that 1966 Impala became friends at least for that summer. Our teacher was also a coach, and one day, we drove the Driver's Ed. car to Fort Wayne to pick up baseball equipment. Silly as it sounds, it was fun. 

Duane and I got married at the end of May. It was hot and I was so in love with my guy. Still am. 

I remember summers at the baseball field when my boys played. Two different leagues. Who knew dusty memories could be so sweet?

I remember that three of my grandkids were born in July. That one needs no explanation, does it?

I remember the summer of 1999, when my very first published book, Always Annie, hit Walmart's shelves. It was the year I attended the only RWA National Conference I ever went to. It was so much fun. I'm no longer in RWA, but I still miss what I thought it was...what its intent was...and the people who gathered under its umbrella for protection and friendship.

So, this wasn't really much of a post, was it?--just a meander down Memory Lane. I hope you share some memories, too.