Isn't it funny how certain months of the year hold such a special place in our hearts? I'm not sure why summertime is the time of year I feel most content, but it always has been my favorite season.
With the first warm days, I can almost feel the breeze blowing in my hair as I race down hills on my banana bike, or smell the delicious scent as I would run inside my grandmother's kitchen to see what type of cake or pie she had made that day.
Joy, over at
Savvy City Farmer just did a post on the way she grew up and those precious memories she clings to, and I could relate to many aspects of her upbringing.
It's funny, if you were to ask me about certain months each year growing up, there is little I could tell you about them. Maybe because we didn't have any birthdays in those months, or there weren't any big holiday celebrations that hit home, but ask me about the time from May until September each year and I can reminisce all day long.
Even as an adult, summer was always my favorite time of year because it meant my kids would be with me all day everyday, I treasure that time we had together now that they are both grown.
If you asked me about summertime growing up, I could regale you with tales of playing baseball in the field across the street, running barefooted on hot blue chip asphalt to catch the ice cream truck, and about playing freeze tag and green light red light until daylight gave way to twilight when the hunt for lightning bugs would begin. I would tell you about my mom marching us into the tub each night to scrub our feet and the dirt and grime from a day of playing hard, and how she stroked our hair each night checking us for ticks.
As I grew up, summer became the time when we didn't talk about school, or need to take notes, we could just be and hang out with our friends acting silly and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Working minimum wage jobs and spending time crabbing or water-skiing on our days off. We thought those days would never end, and sometimes we wished they would. We wanted to be grown ups and live in our own homes and not have to come home by 2 am after dancing all night or sailing all day.
Once, when I was in college, my sister and I went sailing with some friends late in the afternoon. We ventured pretty far out in the Chesapeake Bay, and as we turned to head back to the marina the motor suddenly quit on the boat. This was the mid 1980s so there were no cell phones, and the radio on board decided to quit working too, along with the wind which is why we were using the motor to begin with.
For hours, we were adrift trying to make our way back to shore, and the hours went by so that when we finally did dock it was almost 3 am. I can still remember the look on my mom's face when we got back home and how frightened and worried she was. But what we saw was how angry she was, because we were young, invincible, and we knew we could handle it and that we were ok, so why should she be worried?! Now that I'm a mom, I understand.
She knew something we didn't, that life is short, and more importantly it's very fragile and can be gone in a second. Where we saw invulnerability when we looked in the mirror, she saw naivety and a lack of life knowledge.
Just like my mother, I will always worry, but I have to also let go the same way she did. I've learned to let my kids have their own summer memories, ones that I hope will be as moving as my own.
Ones where even the smell and taste of ripe blackberry will transport them back in time. My only hope is that like the berries which seem so plentiful this time of year they will realize that they are only ripe and full of flavor for a very short time. I hope they memorize that sweetness and drink it in and that they will savor each phase of their lives. That they will find their own time of year that says "ahh" to every fiber of their being the way summertime does to mine.
Embracing who you are and where you come from is one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves. We can't turn back the clock, and getting stuck trying to cling tight to the little and big hands is futile and will only leave you stuck in time instead of continuing on your journey. Just as we can't speed up the clock in hopes of erasing the bad times, each bit of time is what makes us who we are and takes us to the next place we need to go to in life. People, things, pets, and places will change, and you will miss them all, but if you have your memories, then you have it all.
What season speaks to your heart and takes you back?
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