Long Hollow

Summers are riding bikes to Berkshire pharmacy for ice cream cones, picking dewberries in the horse pasture, the first stars silently watching a twilight game of hide-n-seek.

Summers are hours spent at Astroworld, standing in lines, screaming on rides, flirting… days spent at Camp Warnecke, tubing the Comal, playing pinball. Flirting.

Summers are flying down the freeway to Galveston with the windows open, strutting in swim suits, sweating and baking under the sun.

Summers are tubing for hours on the cold Guadalupe, the cold Frio, dancing under the stars, sleeping in a tent, starting all over the next day.

Summers are sandcastles and sunscreen, babies playing in the sand, squealing at the surf, bringing you treasured pieces of shells.

Summers are pool parties, kids clambering up a tree fort, a backyard full of friends and food.

Summers are damp styrofoam noodles, colorful nuisances always in the way and covered with bits of lakeshore, a laundry basket stuffed with beach towels, sunscreen and diving toys, plus a lounge chair or two, all claiming permanent residency in the back of my van. 

Summers are reading book upon book upon book, dark movie theaters and popcorn, field trips to the zoo and museums, long visits to grandparents.

       I miss summertime.

 Are you singing the summertime blues? What are your favorite summer memories?