It was sometime in May, when summer couldn't decide if it would come this year or not, that a friend asked me if I were even able to remember what summer was. Oh, I remember. How could I ever forget?
Summer, to me was going barefoot on a cool, green lawn after sunset while trying to capture fireflies or just gazing at the summer stars. Summer was cold glasses of iced tea enjoyed on a hot day; or, once I was old enough, a nice cold beer after mowing the lawn. Fourth of July meant a parade complete with marching band and baton twirlers in their nice white boots, directly following the cavalry, of course. The fourth of July sky was filled with fireworks, while bonfires and sparklers lit the beach. Summer days meant a beach with sand so hot that you dare not remove your sandals before reaching the shore, and summer evenings cooled the sand for nice leisurely walks that soothed and comforted tired feet. Big green worms guarded vines, abundant with tomatoes. The lull of crickets delivered me to slumber; birds' song announced the start of day. Intrusive thunderstorms invaded my room with such ferocity that I would be forced to seek the comfort of an old, long outgrown teddy bear.
These remembrances are not unique, I am sure; they are probably similar to the summer memories of those who were raised in an area like the one where I grew up. My children, however, will not have memories of summer such as these. Growing up in Alaska's interior, the land of the midnight sun, my children do not gaze upon stars in a summer sky. Fireworks are better suited for New Year's Eve than Independence Day. Tomatoes are not overly abundant and grow, with some practice, in greenhouses void of big green worms. It's more common to see musicians riding a parade float, than marching. Without a proper football season, there is no need of marching bands for halftime shows. Luckily, thunderstorms lack the same intensity when occurring on near sunny afternoons, than in the dark of night.
My children's memories of summer will most likely be of endless sunshine. They will rise to the sun and fall asleep to the sun. They will camp in the sun, not knowing the need of flashlight or lantern to light the path to the campground's outhouse. They'll anticipate the arrival of the wildflowers, the return of swans and salmon, and the leaves on the dormant trees with such enthusiasm that their own existence will come to emulate the cycle of the land. They will exhaust their summers with endless hours of camping, hiking, boating, fishing and biking, for they will learn at a very young age that it all comes too quickly to an end.
Initially, I was saddened at the realization that my children would not experience summer as I had. Then I recognized that the memories they are creating are not inferior to mine, they are simply different. My children will grow and, hopefully, cherish their summer memories as I do mine. Rest assured, though, a pitcher of iced tea stands ready in the fridge.
