Sweet Memories

As a young adult I'm still getting used to the fast pace of the world around me. Most of the year I don't mind the hustle and bustle, except when summer time rolls around. When I see the sunshine and blue skies from my office window,I can't help but long for the slow, simple days of my childhood summers.

A typical summer day would begin when the combination of sunlight pouring through my bedroom window, the roar of early morning lawn mowers, and the smell of breakfast would awake me. My blanket would already be warm from the heat of the blazing sun. The bright light that would reflect off of my stark-white walls made me squint until I made it into the much cooler and darker hallway.

The familiar smell of pancakes and bacon would lure me into the kitchen. The crackling of the bacon grease would call to me like the sound of a can opener calls a cat. Once in the kitchen I'd join my two older sisters at our rickety, wooden farm table and anxiously await the arrival of our plates.

Steam from the skillet would rise up into the air like a thin blanket as dad brought breakfast to the table. The fluffy, golden-brown pancakes seemed to melt in my mouth and the sound of the bacon breaking between my teeth would make my mouth water for more. After several helpings, I'd answer the call of the sun by running outside with my sisters to our beautifully landscaped, but still very open backyard.

The air would be think with the aroma of freshly cut grass and lingering morning dew. My bare feet would feel the cool, still damp grass as I ran with enthusiasm to no where in particular. Sometimes I would play with my toys, other times I would just lay on our newly finished deck and watch the clouds roll by. Whatever I did, I would always thoroughly enjoy myself.

By mid-day, I would be ready for a nap and make my way inside to our cozy, living room couch. There I would listen to the sounds of the hot summer day. Cars would roar by and there always seemed to be lawnmowers. The occasional buzz of a bee would briefly catch my attention as the gentle breeze would leak through our open windows. Sprinklers created gentle splashes and birds would serenade me to sleep. How nice it was to sink deeper and deeper into the couch as the afternoon heat would wrap around me like a quilt.

Although I liked every part of the day, evenings were my favorite. We'd sit outside around our candlelit picnic table in the strange, cool-warmth of twilight. Dad would labor at the barbecue cooking chicken breasts or hamburgers; just a whiff of that sizzling meat would make me hungry. Our dog would quietly lay at our feet waiting for the leftovers he wouldn't get. Small windows to heaven would shine brightly above us as the moon would take over the night sky. The noise of the day would be replaced by the sweet silence of the night except, of course, for the steady hum of little crickets.

I even enjoyed going to bed in the summertime because I could still hear the crickets and feel the breeze through my open window. Slowly, the warm, steady silence of the night would lull me to sleep where I'd long for another summer day just the same.