Summertime
As a little girl I loved the summertime. It was warm, green and filled with cousins, fun and laughter. The sun came up early and went to bed late. There were nights in the haymow, sleeping on the lawn under the stars. Days filled with red rover and tag and cold water from my grandpas well that would make my thirst go away in an instant. There were friends and family who came for hotdog roasts, friendly chats and drunken evenings. I loved the summers on my grandparents tiny little farm.
As I grew older summertime included the cold water of the public pool, bike rides that seemed to go on forever, eating “picnics” with my sibs in the park or backyard and staying out past dark. Eventually the sounds of nature were drowned out by my preadolescent love of the transistor radio that could go everywhere I did. Dreamy summer days and early mornings listening to WTAC in Michigan with my sister as we contemplated what it meant to be 11 and 12. So grown up, or so we thought. Summertime was a time when the caste society of school was not present and everyone was friends.
It was a time of really great food. Ice cold watermelon, corn that is so hot it drips butter, potato salad that is cold and creamy. Macaroni salad with tuna and the burgers! Who can fight with the memory of barbq grills and the smells in the air, the summer wind, kites and kids? Remember the sand at the beach and the naps at days end when the fun in the sun had whipped our butts? The bonfires and the smell of suntan lotion and the way our hair got more golden?
As a young mom I remember the anticipation, the frustration and the exhaustion the days of summer brought. The smiles of my childrens faces and the smile of their father who was unquestionably a bigger kid in some ways than they would ever be. It was his undying quest for fun that shaped the best part of my daughters lives as we grew in family. I was all business and planning and executing. He was the one yelling over his shoulder while running to the water, first on the roller coaster and first in the lineup for the food at the picnic. He was a modern day Peter Pan and we loved it. Without him I think my children would never have known true joy.
When my husband was dying it was a wonderful extended time on our front porch. The porch he built. He would sit in his rocking chair and watch the neighborhood life. He would visit with his friends on the block, he would talk with the kids. He would sit and be friendly. Sometimes in the summertime, he would stay outside into the night, eat popsicles and take it all in. His favorite times? Storms. He loved to watch the clouds roll in and he really loved the wind and rain. One day, it turned a greenish grey. The clouds rolled it, the light was dim and it started to rain like crazy. He loved it. He was energized by the wind and rain. Soon it stopped and he called me to come outside, saying “isnt this so clean and beautiful”. It reminded me of washing a window and everything became clear. The trees were dripping clear raindrops from the green and now black barked tree. The contrast in colors was beautiful. The sidewalks and street was clean with clean and clear water running in the gutter. The sun was muted and the clouds, now gone revealed a beautiful clear blue sky. The breeze was now cool and had the distinct smell of after rain. Clean. It looked clean and smelled clean. It was a contrast to the previous hot and dusty day. Fitting for the conversation of life and death that permeated our life.
Now as a woman alone I long for a porch on which to have others over, serve lemonade and enjoy the summertime that will soon end and lead to the autumn of our lives. Enjoy the front porch and the memories that the seasons trigger. Love one another and have the hope of summers to come and springs to enjoy. Sit on the porch in the solitude of winter and place your face to the sun in the autumn, draw friends and family in and enjoy the minutes and days as they come and go. This is front porch livin.