Summertime was my favorite time as a kid growing up. Living outside of Syracuse, New York can be rough because of the bipolar weather patterns. My backyard was like a sanctuary for me, my siblings, and my cousins. During the summer days, we spent our time from nine in the morning to seven at night playing kickball, swimming, riding bikes, etc. I am the youngest, so if you are the youngest, you understand, and I don’t have to say more than that. I feel as though being the youngest made me tough. I was definitely pushed around by my older cousins and siblings, but I always stood my ground, and that I am proud of.
Mom always had a glass of lemonade (my absolute favorite), hamburgers, and hot-dogs on the grill ready when we played out in the hot sun, typically without shoes. This understandably was annoying to my mom when we ran into the house for bedtime, as we tracked mud up the stairs. We were undoubtedly your atypical kids who were extremely active and became pissy when it rained as it would prevent us from spending the day outside; however, the summer thunderstorms were fun to watch from my living room. My parents used to joke that we were the Sandlot kids; if you’ve never seen this movie, stop reading and watch it right now. No “if”s, “and”s, or “but”s.
Now, my brother and sister are adults with jobs, my cousin just had a baby, my other cousin is graduating from college this year, and I am graduating from college next year. We’re old farts now, and I very much miss the fun summer days in my backyard being obnoxious rugrats. Those summer days formed a close-bond between all of us that I will cherish until we really are old farts. Everyone is now grown up, becoming responsible (yuck) adults, but I know for certain we will never forget the fun times we’ve had in the summertime as a kid.