A colder and deeper layer of water in a lake.
This one reminded me of a time in my youth, MG/Early teens, that I spent with my cousins in a sleepy little rural town. It was a 'wonder years' type of experience that I cherish.
We ran around unsupervised, as if there were no such thing as evil in the world. We rode bikes and skateboards down to the lake, stripped down to our suits and swam out to the floating dock. The girls layed out to tan while the boys performed cannon balls at just the right angles to disrupt our peaceful sun worship. We squealed and laughed and talked about all that was important in our tiny little world. Every once in a while we dove off the edge into the refreshing water to break the heat. Then one cousin suggested a competition worthy of only the most daring soul. The task was this: dive under the dock, grab the anchoring rope and descend hand over hand as far as your breath allowed. You would know how deep you went because after the first 15 feet the water temperature would change, and again every 10 feet after that.
The first time your toes dipped down into the layer of cold water was exhilarating. You pushed your way through and the coolness washed over your entire body, then your toes touched warmth again. Cool, warm, cool. The sensations kept you wanting to push further, all the while calculating distance in the back of your mind, until the desire to breathe came to the forefront. One more level and you would let your survival instinct drag you back up through the parfait of contrasting temperatures. Your face broke the surface and you were gasping and laughing and shouting your amazing depth count to the astonishment of your peers.
One summer day on the lake stretched out for an eternity. When the sun began to set we swam back to the shore, and rode to the house where we were greeted with burgers on the grill and soda bottles on ice. Homemade ice cream, and turns riding around the block on the back of our uncle's motorcycle. At bed time, we stayed up under the covers with flashlights, reading. Everything was right in the world.
How about you? Any stories from a childhood summer that you hold dear? Feel free to share, I love stories. :^)
Wish I had some to share with you - and thanks for joining me by the way, I love your account of a moment from your childhood. I grew up during the war years in Britain and the bombing, so much fear and tension, but I do remember, in order to assist the war effort, we had double summer time and it stayed light sometimes until midnight. For a few short months I played out in the corn fields with children of my own age, before we moved on again.
ReplyDeleteThe best memories of my summers as a child are picnics. After church on Sundays, my parents would load us into the car and we'd drive out into the country (after a stop at KFC for food to take with us). Sometimes we'd stop at a proper picnic area, but most often we'd just stop somewhere pretty and have our lunch off a blanket.
ReplyDeleteSounds lovely! A memory that comes to mind is the swing rope in the woods around our neighborhood. My friends and I would hike through the woods to this spectacularly high swing rope and spend hours swinging out over the descending dirt hill, trying to grasp the vines up in the trees. Sometimes we'd fit as many people as we could on there and swing (the mom in me just winced and shuddered in horror at the thought of my children doing that). We'd take picnics out there sometimes, and it was just a wonderful carefree time. I recently found a swing rope in the woods here, in an entirely different state, and felt like a kid as I took turns swinging with my friends.
ReplyDeleteGood luck on the A to Z Challenge! Love the words/definitions.
My favorite childhood memories are catching crawdads in the creek near our home. My dream home would have to have a creek on the property so I could teach my grandkids the tricks I learned.
ReplyDeleteThank you all for sharing! I love it!
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