There was a time in my life when summer was everything to me. As high school morphed into college, summer was the best time. I was lucky to have two great part-time jobs during the summer. One was working at a nursery, the other was teaching tennis. Both were outdoors which was an added benefit.
Those were the days when my bicycle took me everywhere, or my two feet. My mom worked and cared for her elderly mother every afternoon, so if I wanted to go some place I got myself there. It was always understood that it was the way it was.
I only had to ride a few blocks to teach tennis behind the local middle school. In those days we females wore tennis dresses and the guys wore traditional white tennis shorts. We took our job seriously and were excellent instructors. In the afternoons from 1-3, we instructed and coached a community team whose members were mostly high-school aged. During the hot, hot days of summer I returned home a hot, sweaty mess. I could wring my socks and undergarments out. The sweat on my legs would dry as I bicycled home and my dog would lick my legs when I got home. I was a human salt block.
My routine was to clean out my thermos and then to take a shower. What a wonderful feeling it was to wash off the salt and sweat. Donning some clean clothes I would then retire to the screen porch with a good book. I can still smell the faint mildew quality of the chaise lounge when I sat to read. Letting my feet breathe, I always laughed at how startlingly white they were. Feet do not tan when ensconced in wet socks and sneakers all day.
If I close my eyes, it comes back to me all these decades later. Our backyard was lush and populated by shade trees. Birds visited the birdbath with regularity, the small splashes made me smile. On occasion a breeze flitted through. Immersed in a good book, sometimes I dozed off. A day well-spent outdoors indulging in lots of physical activity, late afternoon reading, and the nights were for socializing.
I never made a great deal of money teaching tennis during those summers but between the two jobs, I’d be able to pay for another year of college. I loved those days when I was in shape, tan, and carefree. It’s a shame they couldn’t have lasted longer but those golden memories never fade.
Stories Are For Eternity 