Good Morning and wasn't it nice to be able to leave the windows open last night?
A couple of weeks ago (on the last day of school), the little ones asked me what we were going to do this summer.
I gave my usual answer: "Depends on how everybody is going to act. A lot of fighting or arguing means a summer spent in a perpetual state of punishment. Acting good will mean more trips and more things to do."
Then, they asked what I did during the summer.
For some reason, I really don't know why, I flashed back to spending time with my cousins at their little farm (well, it had a barn) and tossing rocks into the creek.
It wasn't exactly a Mayberry time, but I remember having fun. The cousins were a little older than me and we didn't see them a whole lot, but every summer we'd spend a few times just 'messing around.'
My Aunt would make some kind of lunch, we'd eat, then head back and run around. We'd sneak in and get some ice cream or cookies, then do more of the same.
As the year's went by, I saw less and less of those cousins. As we got older and jobs or school got in the way, it went from a few times a year to once to none. They still lived in the area (my aunt continued to live in the old house), but I guess it's just the way some things go.
I haven't seen them in close to 20 years.
After I had told the stories of those summers to my children, my dad told me my aunt was sick and had to be hospitalized.
I found out she died yesterday.
I still don't know why I remembered those summer moments above others, but, maybe, it was a way of saying good bye.