3 seasons of my childhood are a blur.
I was made for summer.
Summer is stitched through me in whirling, dizzying loops.
I’m still the little girl slipping down the soapy yard on salvaged plastic garbage bags. I am chocolate ice in my favorite Strawberry Shortcake bowl. I’m the girl screaming lyrics while swinging on the rusty metal swing set. I’m stacks of stickers to swap with friends while sitting in the tree my mother planted out in the front yard before I was born. I am pig-tails, barefoot and sun-tan oil. I’m fireflies at dusk.
Only now, I’m also 36 years old with a marriage, a mortgage, four children who light up my days and evenings with the pulsing emotional current of real life.
An average summer day now finds me negotiating, managing, organizing, entertaining, refereeing, and wiping up more spills and messes than I ever remember making back when I was on the “giving” end of this equation.
I’ll be honest, those were the good ol’ days but this life right here is where the best of me lives.
I want to give my kids the gift of all I had. The ability to embrace summer. All I want to hear the slamming of doors as children run out to play. I am enjoying the tangle of bicycles and scooters and pogo sticks in my driveway. Paired with the symphony of laughter and squeals. Their heads sweaty.
People say the glory days are over and that our children will suffer with this ever-changing high-technological world. But honestly, the details are different but the memories seem the same.
In between playing judge and jury, life coach and line cook; I’ll stop to remember I’m still that little girl with nose plugs standing at the end of the high dive when I barely know how to swim.
This life is an adventure. It’s oh so good to us.
Some things change but who God made us to be never does.