Summer

Summer was my best friend. We were three. She was naughty. We were always in trouble, and it always pointed back to her.

I was, of course, an obedient child. Rest and nap time meant just that- you were to rest, and to nap. But, who am I to argue when adventure came calling. It did come that afternoon. My eyes were closed, and I was practicing my resting when a voice, a broken, hushed, whispered voice spoke. "Stephanie!"

"Is it you, Lord?"

The Lord did not answer, however, Summer did.

"Stephanie! Stephanie! It's me, Summer! I'm hiding under the bed!" That should have been a sign right there. Somehow she had escaped her parents' bedroom, successfully made it down the hall, into her own room, and under the bed (where I was), all without being detected. Clearly Summer really wasn't interested in napping, or resting. It didn't last. We were caught. It would be hard NOT to get caught when you are only three, and you are missing from your assigned location.

We would eat at Cherries, an ice cream shop, with a ball pit. (It was, I'm sure absolutely disgusting. Those things creep me out now- but, eh, we were kids- what did we know?!)

My family moved to Indiana, but then we would travel across the country, back to Texas, and I would see Summer. By then, naps were out. Fire was in.

The house was ours. We were twelve. Granted, her parents were still in the same building, they were just sleeping. That left the two of us with free range...except, not quite. "I'm not allowed to use the stove, without my parents, you know. But, I could go for some bacon right now."
Who doesn't want bacon at 11 at night?

No stove? No problem.
Summer was quick. She cut up a few pieces of bacon, pulled out some foil, a plastic (yes plastic) lunch box, and some matches. Carefully, she laid the foil on the lunch box, placed the bacon on the foil and lit a match. I do not remember how the next steps went, but I do know that one of us held the lunch box (probably me) while the other (probably Summer) held the lit match underneath the lunch box, directly under the foil. The bacon was sizzling and cooked in a matter of minutes. Not bad, Summer, not bad.

Let's face it people, I'm a pale girl. I have freckles. I burn. Summer loved the sun. We would iein the driveway and work on "our" tans. Let me rephrase, Summer would iein the driveway and work on her tan. I would have a book, be wearing a towel to protect myself from the harsh UV rays threatening to speckle my pale skin, and pray for cloud coverage.

Somewhere, some moments after that, months or years later, we lost contact. She was there, and I was elsewhere. The letters stopped, and the phone calls and the visits. And, it was okay. It wasn't the type of painful breakup friends can experience. It wasn't on purpose- it just was.

I think about Summer, my friend. I have no pictures that I can find, but I have her memory. I still have it tucked away, the songs we would sing (while dancing) on my front porch (until we got in trouble for being inappropriate- once again, we were only three), I have her house in my mind, and her naughty smile when she came up with a great idea.

So in thinking about Summer today.... I hope that wherever you are, you are happy, and that you are well, and I hope that life has been a wonderful adventure.

AND, I hope you don't hide under the bed anymore......I'm just sayin'.