Summer

I can not think of a particularly exciting summer in my childhood. My family didn’t do a big vacation every summer and I didn’t play a “summer” sport. My parents both worked and so summers were really just a break from school. I’m not complaining, mind you, it is what it is…or was. I don’t think my summer was drastically different from any of my friends. Maybe it’s just how it was in Southern Illinois.
One thing that summer solidified though was who my real friends were. My real friends called. My real friends came around. We had slumber parties and went to the public pool (because none our families had pools) and we rode our bikes down country roads. We all had at least fifty acquaintances at school but summer time was for real friends.
I hope that for my own kids. I hope that they will be able to look around and see people who love them for who they are. I hope that they will have summers of laughter and joy and be able to look back one day and see the difference between who was a true friend and who was convenient. I hope that they will still be able to pick up a phone or computer (or whatever futuristic communication device is handy) and be able to reach out to those friends. And I hope they also make new friends who will spend adult summers grilling out and swimming and enjoying family time with them because, well, that’s what summer is for.

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