Summer

Summer.

It is a word that calls up so many memories of my grandparents. Growing up I spent nearly every summer of my childhood bouncing back and forth across the Minnesota-North Dakota border from my mom's parents to my dad's parents. And I loved it.

(in fact, I just disappeared to see how much flights are running these days...)

Every summer Grandpa S. would buy me a summer pass to the pool and I would spend pretty much every afternoon at the pool. There were days that would pass where I would wear only pajamas and a swimsuit.

Some days we would go to a lake.

Some days we would go to the farm.

Some days we would go to Fergus or to Fargo and Grandpa V. would buy me a cassette of whatever music I was into at the time.

Some days we would travel to Wisconsin to visit family there. I read the entire Anne of Green Gables series during one such week.

I had a house full of friends who lived next door to Grandpa and Grandma S.

Every day was filled with love. Summer was my safe and comfortable place.

Fall, winter, and spring were different. They were times of divorces and times of change. I went to elementary school at four different school in four different towns and three different states. I was good at making new friends and then leaving those friends behind. The only friends that I kept during those years were my summer friends. I rarely had contact with them for the other nine months of the year, but during the summer months we were thick as thieves from the first day I arrived until the inevitable day I would depart.

Adult summers are a different beast. There is work and a great many more responsibilities. I've lived in this house longer than I've lived in any other place during my entire life...and it's only been eight years. While I am happy with my life, content with the choices I've made, there are still some days when I want to get in an airplane and fly to the smallest of airports where my grandparents will be waiting for me, along with an entire summer of bike rides and swimming pools.