magine riding through a neighborhood with the windows down, warm air blowing through your hair, and laughing hysterically as the driver yells, "Woohoo! Get out of our way!" while beeping the horn non-stop. Yea, that was my grandmom.
I suppose I thought making a memorable summer for my girls had to include traveling to new and exciting places, but we seem to have made a million little memories just enjoying the simple things summer has to offer right at home.
We slept with our bedroom windows open and our blankets at our feet. We heard the conversations of passing teenagers and lovers through the windows, and we heard the drone and swoosh of the occasional traffic. We could hear the ballgame on someone else's radio.
Cleaning out my mother's house has been both painful and eye-opening. Her photos, keepsakes and written words remind me of the amazing woman she once was, and highlight the glaring contrast between her then and now.
It's uncanny that Mum died the day before we were scheduled to depart. I ate volumes of candy during that long train ride. Nobody suggested I shouldn't. And I've always suspected that a lifelong pattern of episodic over-indulgence began that day.
When I was growing up (half a century ago), life was different. Telephones had rotary dials and did not double as game consoles. Kids sat next to the TV because we didn't have remote controls to change to the other three channels and rabbit ears needed constant adjustments.