Dreaming of a Green Summer

The past week was brutal. Record-low temperatures, more snow and white knuckle driving were the stories of the day. But I just can't talk about that anymore.

Instead, I find myself thinking about childhood summers.

Riding my bike down a street canopied with maple trees. Flapping against my spokes was the bubble gum card -- either a discarded baseball player my brother didn't want or maybe a bullshit Monkees card with a scene from the show that didn't have any of the boys in it. The one blip in my memory of this is the year we had the cicadas, flying at me from the trees, leaving their discarded shells to crunch beneath my bike tires. (Creepy stuff, but I'd still rather be crunching cicada shells than snow.)

The year I got a hula-hoop for my birthday, just like my sister's. And I shoop shooped my way through summer. Learning how to spin it so it came back to me. 

The teen summers. Hanging out with Linda on her porch (she had a glider) and watching for boys. Especially the guy down the street we nicknamed "Bwam" because he rode a motorcycle. Swimming in her pool. Walking up to McDonald's for a coca-cola or a shake.

Snippets of memories of sunny, warm summer days to push away, if just for a little while, the shoveling that will need to be done a little later today.

It will get warm again one of these days, right?