Part of a series inspired by Ross Gay
that starts here:
The best part of my childhood summers? Was when we packed up the truck and camper and drove to see the relatives. Those summers offered many delights: being pulled through the irrigated yard on whatever had been used as a sled, sleeping under that big star filled sky in the lush green grass, and having playmates.
We spent most of our time at my Mother's only brother's house--the one with the amazing air conditioner in the bathroom. Who wouldn't want to stay in that room overly long? One summer, we arrived to find the spacious garage had been converted into a rec room--complete with a bar and chairs that appeared to be crafted from barrels . . . and CHILDREN were not allowed.
A year or so passed and suddenly--we were the only ones using the rec room for that week or so in the summer. I think it was cousin D, who could play some tunes on the piano, one of which was Chicago's "Color My World". We played and sang the hell out of that song, in the adult abandoned room. And there was a hide-a-bed that I shared with C. She woke me up, in a panic, in the wee hours, to share her discovery: there were mice in the rec room(!). Trembling, we watched them skitter from the hide-a-bed, to check out shoes, and nooks and crannies.
In the morning, we couldn't wait to share the news. But . . . none of the adults would believe it. We, with our bad news, were teased out of the room. Huh, maybe that's how we ended up sleeping under the stars in the backyard.
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