Today as we sat at home for the third day in a row with another sicky (Tess this time) I found myself thinking fondly about my summers as a child. They were magical. I know it sounds cliche, but they were…magical.


[Star Valley, WY | 1980]

I remember boating on the weekend and trips to Lake Powell where my dad taught me to water ski.
I remember going to Star Valley, WY to my aunt & uncle’s cabin to swim and ride horses.
I remember running out my door in the early morning hours to my friends house hoping one of them would be able to play.
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I remember drive ins and fireworks.
I remember tan lines and popsicles.
I remember my dad playing catch with my brothers in the back and BBQs with family friends.
I remember long days outside playing house in our tree house.
I remember my friends and I asking our moms to let us have a sleepover.
I remember riding bikes around the neighborhood and getting Slurpees and garbage pail kid cards at the 7/11 up the street.
I remember the house being so hot at night that I would lay in the hallway to get the cool air coming off the swamp cooler.
I remember tomatoes and squash fresh from the garden.

It’s crazy for me to think I’m now on the other end of these memories. When you’re a kid it’s so weird to think you’ll be anything but. Of course time races on and those memories fade into the background until you have your own children and then once again you’re reminded as you watch and help them create their own memories just how magical it really was.

I hope they are feeling the magic too.