Summer was…

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Box fans.  Kool-Aid.  Chlorinated pools.

The top bunk.  A lake breeze fluttering the homemade curtain all night.  Listening to wavelets kiss the rocky beach.  “No digging in the clay!” –  and digging anyway.

Mosquitoes in the tent, buzzing in my ear.  Sunburns.  Crab shells by the seashore.

Green quart baskets filled with strawberries.  A garden growing corn, carrots, pumpkins, peas.

A tree cabin in the woods.  A stream conjured up from the outflow of a drainage pipe, with plans for a fish pond and flower garden.  A hammock strung between two oaks.  Bike rides. Sparklers in the backyard. I am eight, nine, ten and the summers are endless.

 

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