Since it is summer, and my list of productive
things to do is virtually nonexistent, I decided to tackle the cleaning out and
organization of my childhood room.
I have found many amusing and sentimental things including but not
limited to: a journal from when I was 11 when I mused about a family vacation
to Predido Key and our 9 o’clock dinner on the first night (“NOW THAT IS LATE"…I
penned), an American Girl Pages and Pockets book where my commentary is nothing
short of hysterical, various photographs, and a poem I wrote titled
“Summer”.
After
reading this poem, I decided it was too entertaining not to share. Based on my penmanship, I would guess I
was somewhere around eight or nine when I wrote it, so try not to judge too
hard…
In
the summer you shall see
How
hot and warm it can be.
In
the morning you sleep in
And
eat breakfast in the den.
Then
you swim and play.
“Let’s
go in,” you say.
Pizza
for dinner. Yum.
This
tastes better than bubble gum.
Can
you spend the night?
Then
we can have a pillow fight.
Go
to bed,
Sleepy
Head.
You
can do it all again
For
summer has just began.
In
retrospect I think I captured my childhood summers pretty well. Growing up in Florida with a pool in
the backyard, it was more than easy for me to run in and out of the house,
swimsuit still dripping wet. Really not much has changed about my summers
through the years. It is still
both hot AND warm (and humid and sweltering and all the other adjectives that
describe Florida's summer temperatures). I
still sleep in and eat breakfast on the couch (usually, these days, I watch the
Weather Channel rather than cartoons).
I can still be found by the pool in my parents' backyard when I am lucky
enough to spend my summers at home.
I still think Pizza tastes better than bubble gum, but I no longer have
many Slumber Parties, unfortunately.
I guess these almost childhood-like summers are one of the perks of
being a teacher, and, honestly, I don’t know that I ever want to give them
up.
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