Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Country Road, Take Me Home.

There's just something about being in the house you grew up in that makes you nostalgic. As a matter of fact, it makes me revert to my childhood altogether. I'm in high school all over again. It's summertime and I have nothing to do but lounge in the sun and read books. I'm in bed early and sleeping late (8:30!!). I'm the epitome of lazy. I can't even bring myself to check Facebook, let alone blog. A couple summers ago, my mom coined our house "The Restful Place", and it is by far my favorite place to come and just rest. There are so few distractions, and with my current lack-of-responsibility, I can't think of a better place to be...especially during the summer.
Speaking of summer, there really is nothing better, is there? You get a perfect combination of all the best things: sun, sand, the smell of Coppertone and fresh cut grass, long days, late nights, sun tans, and, of course, the Fourth of July!
July 4th is one of my favorite holidays. I mean, if I'm being honest, I like all holidays a lot. But as far as summer goes, America's birthday flat out rocks. We had a great day here at "the restful place". We kicked it off by playing in the pool. Well, I played and my dad humored me. Then I pestered him for about an hour about what it was like growing up in a house with eight other kids (which absolutely fascinates me). Then we sat and watched birds eat from our new feeder for awhile. Strange I know, but it was quite entertaining (even more so because we named them all). We grilled hot dogs for lunch, obviously, drank sangria, played cards, pooled it some more, grilled a couple chickens, and had a really great day.
My mom and I decided to brave the fireworks show last night, although we weren't brave enough to go all the way to the beach. Instead, we pulled over on the side of the highway and watched them light up the trees. It reminded me of a similar experience with my dad when I was little, except we stopped in the middle of a far less busy road. The setting was really perfect. The radio played a patriotic medley of all-American country, and when John Denver's Take Me Home played I was transported, yet again, to my childhood. It was a song we used to sing at my grandparents' house sitting around a campfire while my uncle strummed his guitar. A quintessential memory of my childhood that always reminds me of summer and family and the absolute carefree-ness of growing up.
Next week it will be back to Jacksonville for me and back to being an grown-up. Even though I still have plenty of time left in my summer, I am running out of time to be a little kid in the house I grew up in. I was lucky enough to get an extra summer here, but I can't help but think that my summers and my excuses for acting like a little kid might be running out.

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