Summer, when I was a child, was a time of exploration.  We hunted in the vacant lots for praying mantises and garter snakes.  We hunted on the crusty shores of the Great South Bay for muscles and water rats.  The world seemed so large to us, and yet, our corner of that world was so small.

We played games like kick-the-can and S-P-U-D, we invented “Keep Away from the Edges” in our own dead end.  We camped in backyards and imagined walking on the moon.  We sold Kool-aid and old toys for Jerry’s kids.  We biked to the next town like we were crossing state lines.  We ran through sprinklers and played endless 45s on our portable record players.

We imagined being grown up.

We slept in screened in patios with a fan blowing away the hot humid air.  We told each other our dreams . . . and our nightmares.  We shared a friendship and a sister-hood that can never be matched no matter how long we live.

Summer Days, Summer Nights, long gone, but lovingly remembered.