Summertime memories

I am being flooded by warm memories of a thousand summers gone by. It's hot here in Bangladesh, the smells are new, the heat reminding me of lazy school days when the teacher is tired of teaching so we watch a movie instead or have a study hall and we stick to the plastic seats of the desks. Waking up warm and, without any covers on reminds me of hot August Ohio summer mornings when I would go running before work on the farm. I am smelling the mixture of gas and newly cut grass as people decide to mow their lawns for the first time. I am reminded of getting my go-kart out of the corner of our garage and taking it for a ride on the farm, shaking out all the cobb webs. I am tasting Dr. Pepper, my favorite childhood soft drink, while I make boxes with my cousins in the box room at the farm. Don't tell my mom I drink 7 a day.

I am thinking about Calvin's Spring Arts Festival and going barefoot on Commons Lawn, while watching my friends mill around and eat free food and throw a frisbee around. I hear tropical bird sounds which brings me back to Florida or Hilton Head, South Carolina on family vacations passed. I smell the salty water and think about feeding the sea gulls. I feel the hot hot sun and want to jump into my aunt's pool or turn a sprinkler on and run through it. I think of popping the tar bubbles on the road before they re-paved it with black top. The tar always got stuck in my jelly shoes or on my big toe. We had to get it off with paint thinner.

I hear loud music with amped bass and think back to last summer on the porch at Harambee. Sitting, drinking a cold icy cup of water with the kids as they take a break from their playing. I feel the humidity and wonder when the big crack of thunder will come and release the moisture from the air.

I look at the picture from last summer backpacking at Noordhouse dunes and I want to run into lake Michigan and play and swim for hours. I hear the waves.

The hot and humid weather is good and producing unexpected reactions...I need to be more open to my unexpected reactions. My imagination is ignited, and good memories are washing me clean.