Kicking off our shoes, running barefoot through the cool green grass as the warmth of late spring settled in.
Hours spent in the mesa catching horned toads and blue-tail lizards, placed gently in a shoe-box hoping to keep them as pets, knowing we would have to turn them loose in Mom’s garden.
Bike riding to the public pool to splash and cool off with friends.
The distant, melodious sound of the ice-cream truck approaching. Dashing inside to shake enough pennies or nickels from our piggy banks to buy an ice-cream bar.
Walking to our elementary school to enjoy the swings without interruption. Did you see how high I went??
Squealing in delight as we played in the cold water of the water sprinkler.
Hiding behind the screen door on my hands and knees, barking at neighbors as they walked by. I was the dog we didn’t have. I was weird. My bark was good, though.
Playing outside, until just before dark.
Camping out in the backyard. Telling ghost stories, sharing secrets, laughing hysterically, all while the mosquitos happily dined. Their bites were bragging rites.
Summer vacations spent in ‘my’ beautiful mountains. At my grandparents home on Cheyenne Mountain, a cabin in the woods or a tent – I was in heaven.
Later, as the summer days waned and fall approached, the feeling of fallen/un-canned apricots squishing between our toes as we dashed through the yard under the apricot tree. Okay, that was gross, but there as worse things to step in barefoot.
I love the memory of those childhood summers. They were the best. Even the apricots.