I remember...

What is it about summer time that makes me remember so much?

I remember that when we would visit Mamaw and Aunt Rita we would always go shopping. Mamaw could always be counted on to say, "Ya'll ready for a Coke? Come on. Let's set down and rest our feet a minute." I loved that about her. We would sit and sip cold Cokes and rest a little. And laugh. And tell stories. And jokes. And laugh. And just be happy to be together.

I remember the particular smell of a Texas-hot car; the creak of metal as the door was opened and the way that the heat would roll out in shimmering waves. I'd always look for a genie as if that hot car were the bottle in which he was imprisoned.

I remember sticking to the car seats and the squelchy, horribly wonderful sound your bare legs would make as you pulled them up.

I remember hours and hours with nothing but the hum of a ceiling fan, the turn of a page, and the cold sweetness of an orange Popsicle. Days spent sleuthing with Trixie, Honey, and the Bobwhite gang.

I remember choosing the grape Popsicle even though I loved orange best because I was going outside where Kenny was playing baseball. I remember thinking he might notice me since the grape-y stain on my lips would surely make me prettier.

I remember the smell of coconuts and chlorine and all the pretty older girls in their bikinis. I remember thinking that they sure would have a lot more fun if they'd actually get in the pool. What could be better than a tea party at the pool bottom? Except maybe a jump from the high dive.

I remember dragging my cousins' trampoline under their tree house and jumping off. I swear we bounced higher than the house roof. While we jumped, the boys played some version of war. I never told them I was pretending to be the cheerleader at the top of the standing pyramid.

I remember...

I remember...