Join Diane, Delores and me while we sift through our memory storage units and weigh all the thoughts we find there about summers past. Excuse us, please, if we leave in our wake some sand, pressed flowers, and the smell of bug spray.
Hey, you can write a poem, too! Put it in the comment box on any of our blogs, or post it on your own blog if you'd rather. Just leave us a little map (your blog address) in the comments so we can find your blog and cheer you on.
I have a lot of good summer memories from when I was growing up, but the older I got the more the sun and heat seemed to bother me. This poem started out as a record of all my summer memories, but gradually went from happy to horrible as I got older and more bothered, which seems to be in direct opposition to the theme of "favourite" summer memory!
So I pared it back a bit.
When I attended university in the late 1970's, most degrees required three years of study. The school year ran from September to April, and the months of May to August were spent working to help finance the rest of the year. This poem describes snapshots from those two summers, when I was eighteen and nineteen years old, respectively.
* * * * *
Wind and Rain
With the sort of fondness that more than forty years' distance can bring
The two summers that marked the breaks
In my years of so-called higher learning.
One spent slinging Colonel Sanders' chicken
Making buckets and buckets of Dixie coleslaw
And working frantic overtime one August supper hour
After a hurricane blew through and took out the power
In every part of town and in every restaurant except ours.
And one spent in a corporate job
Boarding with an elderly woman who became a treasured friend.
I felt so grown-up, trotting off to work in the cool of a small-town morning
Yet so lonely, away from my family and school friends.
One day I dashed home for lunch, barefoot along the sidewalk, new sandals in my hand
So they would not be ruined in the sudden summer rain.
How can these scenes -- so mundane, so unimportant, so unremarkable --
Be so very, very clear
So very, very far in my then-future?
What's YOUR favourite summer memory? Or any summer memory? I'm not picky!
Hope you have a good week ahead. Our temperatures have moderated a wee little bit, so I'm pretty sure I'm going to enjoy my week.
Oh dear, I hope I didn't just put a hex on myself . . . !