Listening to Mellencamp and Elton John and Springsteen on our boom box, summer sound of push mowers coming alive. My little kid's mind noticing everything as if time had become elastic. The bees bobbing in the thick clover, the pine woods blushing with white dogwoods and telephone poles festooned with wisteria.
The neighborhood kids would wait for my uncle who'd show up in his black Chevy and give us Garbage Pail Kids cards, sour candy, and jelly bracelets. Then we'd roam the streets on our bikes until we heard our parents whistle and could smell the Kingsford charcoal and lighter fluid.
Frivolous games, silly jokes, foot races and sitting silently on the porch swing because we were too hot to talk. Grape Kool-aid tasted like a chilled wine from heaven. Panting for breath we thought those summers would never end.