-Isms: Views on life in rural America

Ahh, sweet summertime.

As the unofficial start of the summer season kicks off this weekend, I’m making a list of everything I want (and need) to accomplish this summer.

It’s a long list. It got me thinking, wouldn’t it be great to go back in time, when summer days were spent at the swimming pool. My sister and I would arrive when the doors swung open for business, grab a basket for shoes and towels and pretend to take a shower before dropping off the wire container at the guard shack.

Then we’d run to the edge and jump in, learning how to back float or perfect the frog kick or play Marco Polo. We’d leave at 5 p.m., arriving home famished, longing for a grilled burger and a glass of black cherry Kool-Aid.

Wouldn’t it be nice to go back in time, when summer days were spent at the ball field, perfecting a curve ball or stepping into the batting cage and slamming the ball just over the fence line.

Wouldn’t it be nice to go back in time, when we couldn’t wait to visit our grandparents and spend a week with them. We’d watch town-team baseball games, bake chocolate chip cookies and sip on root beer floats at Grandma Larson’s house and, at the Fields’ farm, we’d saddle Prince and Danny and King and mosey through the pasture, looking for the perfect spot to lay down and stare at the cerulean sky. Sometimes, we’d stand at the edge of the cornfield, waiting for flicks of freezing water from the pivot to cool us. If we were lucky, Grandma would grab orange sherbet push-ups from the deep freeze for a snack.

Wouldn’t it be nice to go back in time to take one last family vacation with the ‘rents. Since they were teachers, vacations were a relaxed field trip, complete with itinerary and a timetable we did not deviate from. I’m not sure which trip was the favorite, but a two-week road trip through Texas ranks up there.

Wouldn’t it be nice to push the to-do list to the side this summer and let summer happen naturally. No concrete plans (except the neighbor’s wedding dance, can’t miss that), no list of demands for time, no crushed expectations when, in the fall, only a handful of projects are marked as complete.

Ahh, sweet summertime, I hope to view plenty of July sunsets where the orb covers the horizon, planning nightly dance and karaoke parties on the deck, stopping to smell the flowers so I can memorize every fragrance. I’m hoping to share birthday treats while sitting on the tailgate in the middle of the pasture, soaking up every inch of heat and warmth that soothes my soul.

Oh, summertime, you will always remind me of childhood, a familiar friend recommending time to slow down, a means to savor memories. Let’s have an amazing time.