Summer is
bittersweet in so many ways. We savor
the days of sunshine and days of gentle rain, while at the same time realizing
the danger of sunburned skin, strong
storms, tornadoes, flooding and hurricanes.
Summer is a season where we slow down a bit, take time off, and let our
minds wander; our thoughts blowing through our brains like those white puffy
clouds the wind pushes and changes as they move across the deep blue sky on a
hot afternoon. As my memories meander
around in my head I realize that it is this time of the year when I miss my
parents the most. Most people I talk to
about their parents once they have passed on say they miss them most around the
winter holidays—Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve, or around Mothers
Day and Fathers Day. Those days do have
a poignant emptiness to them once your parents are no longer here but for me it’s
the summer time that leaves me with an emptiness quite unfillable.
It was in the
summer that we seemed to have the most fun with our parents. Whether it was a family game of softball in
the field across the street, a trip to explore and picnic at Tillman’s Ravine,
or a trip to visit my aunt at the shore we did it together on the weekend. During the week, my mother packed picnic
lunches of cheese sandwiches, iced tea and vegetable sticks and we walked up
the street where there was forest now many houses) where we walked through the
coolness of the trees and stopped at “Diamond Rock” for lunch. Other days we’d simply yell into the house
through the screen door to let Mom know we were going to a friend’s house, bike
riding, or to the playground. She was
always there; she was our anchor as we navigated our way through
childhood. The evenings were spent
either sitting together in lawn chairs on the porch drinking lemonade and
talking and laughing about whatever four kids and two adults would, or playing
games; usually either Scrabble or Rummy.
Even after we were all grown, when I visited my parents Mom was always
ready with the Scrabble board or a deck of cards once the dinner dishes were
washed and put away. She was really hard
to beat as she knew so many words and was a strategic player of letters. In Rummy she always seemed to get the cards
she needed, I don’t know how she did it but she usually reached 500 before
anyone else was even close. Those were
such nice times, the cool of the evening, a citronella candle on the picnic
table, glass of iced tea, and a quiet game which invited casual conversation
and fostered a closeness of which there is no comparison.
Summer, for
me, is the time I most wish my parents were still here. It’s the time that I feel the loss of them
the most, yet I have to smile at all the happy memories I have of those long
lazy summers.
