Friday, April 17, 2015

You Never Remember Anything about Our Childhood

Loves Food, Loves to EatI was going through old documents and files on my computer, and found this thing I wrote for Amanda for her 30th birthday. I never ended up giving it to her, for whatever reason. We always joke (in a funny-'cause-its-true kind of way) that Amanda has the worst memory ever, and I exist to be her life historian, because I have a crazy good memory.

Anyway, I think this is perfect for a sunny Friday afternoon, and has me longing for hot, endless summer days! PS. That epic photo up there is my favorite family photo! So 80s/90s. The original hipsters. We actually have a series of these, because my dad would set the timer and run back for the perfect shot. Check out the expression I'm making...HA! So good.

TGIF, friends!

You Never Remember Anything about Our Childhood (So I Remember it All)
Vol 1. Summer.

Overexposed and faded. Pastel and neon.
It was the 90s, after all.
We had big box fans and spray bottles for AC.
We had jugs of sun tea brewing on the picnic table in the front yard.
Mom and dad called it the back yard, which never made sense.
Mom with her tanning oil and tube tops.
The blue and white striped one was our favorite. Because it was her favorite.
It was hot and dry. Never humid.
Everything was the color of wheat, from the sky to the grass to your sun-bleached hair.
Except for the garden. It was like a jungle.
Lush and green, cool and shaded. Full of life.
We went barefoot over a path of hot gravel.
Like firewalkers on burning coals.
We had tough soles back then. And tougher souls.
We had iced sun tea in jelly jars, nestled in the cool garden dirt.
Yours with sugar, mine plain. Never with lemon.
The water from the hose was always sizzling hot at first.
Straight from the well, it tasted like the hose.
Rubber and metal, and earth.
The roma tomatoes, covered in a light layer of dust.
They were our favorite. Because they were Richard’s favorite.
Farm to table. Minus the table.
And minus the farm.
When dad came home from work, we chased the dust down the driveway.
We got to eat dinner outside.
We got to have fruit salad with an icy scoop of lime sherbet.
On the deck in the back yard, which mom and dad called the front yard.

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