Wednesday, June 15, 2011

Bring It On

Tomorrow is the last day of school. For some reason kids just don't greet the summer like we did when I was growing up. Shoes came off and didn't return until fall when I needed a size larger. The farm was bustling with tobacco planting season coming on and other things like sheep shearing and baby chicks. Brenda and I were ready to look for new kittens in the barn. Dad loaded the corn and took it to the elevator.

Already the girls are bored. School is out late here in Oregon. They don't go back to school until after Labor Day. From this end of summer break, it seems like a long time, but I know that's not true. It will be over before they know it.

"I don't want to hear that you are bored all summer. We will have fun." I said it this way hoping that they understand that I have imposed a fun requirement for the next three months. 

Shoes are all off already. Mine have been off for awhile, but the kids are just catching up. I know that we will lots to do in the time I am here and not in back east visiting. I have gathered something new for them to open each day while I am gone. None of it is worth much....well maybe it is worth knowing a grams will miss them.

I know that after a couple of weeks after school was out, Brenda and I were running out of things to do. Mom loaded us up with old curtains and sent us to the corn crib where we pulled an old crate into one of the bins along with our dolls and toy dishes. Housekeeping was in place for the least until I saw a mouse.

Softball would be played at Lavy's. Neighbor kids would visit each other popping up at the door of the house asking, "Can Brenda play? Can Merrill and Donnie play? Can Pam play? Can I play at your house?" The questions at the doors would last all summer long. Brenda and I would go fishing with our Daddy's. Mom would hang laundry and chickens on the clothes line. Rocks would be tossed off the bridge, and we would sit on an old, downed tree on Cyril's side of the creek trying to decided who had carved initials there. It was summer vacation.

When I'm back, maybe I'll toss a few stones off the bridge. I doubt I'll go barefoot up the lane. For some reason walking on gravel was easier when I was a kid on summer vacation. I won't play softball or watch as the tobacco planter moves down the rows. But I will remember. I will remember the kids who played along Neff Road.

Summer vacation was and is the best.

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