Summer Days Long Gone

Summer days were always scorching in Aurora, Colorado. We would ride our bikes through our desert-like neighborhood streets while the heat rose up from the black asphalt in waves that seemed to distort our vision. 

The end of our street gave home to enormous piles of dirt which marked the border of civilization.  We were sure we could see Kansas in the distance.  We explored those dirt mountains, designed trash museums in them, and escaped there whenever our imaginations called. 

Our backyard was a jungle of weeds, as grass had presumably never been planted. As those weeds grew up over our heads Dad mowed trails through them so that we could play an exciting, blind game of fox and goose, or hide-and-seek, or anything at all, really. The summer sun blazed down on us as a spectator to our many childhood adventures.

Riding a bicycle for the first time in the driveway of that Colorado home was like being given wings. I could fly through the air with speed and freedom; down the hills with wind rushing past my ears and stinging my eyes until tears leaked from them. It didn't matter that I fell from the seat of my bike daily by continually pushing it to it's limits. My bike was a good friend that always scooped me back up and took off again - ready for me to pedal too fast or corner too quickly, always ignoring the scars that I gave it.

Summer's highlight was playing outside and at the close of a long afternoon, hearing the soft, distant tinkling of the ice cream truck. Excitement doubled with each pound of our feet on the pavement as we raced into the house to collect money from Mom or Dad, and then scurried back outside to listen to the truck draw nearer. A snow cone with rainbow stripes of cherry, grape and lime. Cool and sweet on our tongues, and sometimes, when we ate with undue enthusiasm, a brain freeze to remind us to slow down and enjoy it. At the bottom of the paper cone, all covered in melted juices lay a gumball. A prize for each moment of blistering play outside.

The world was bigger in the days of my Colorado summers. Horizons were further in the distance and backyards were larger than life. Bicycles, mounds of dirt, and snow cones were all that I needed to feel excitement and joy. As two of my sons raced to catch the ice cream truck today with dollar bills clenched like treasure in their fists, I hoped that their worlds were filled with magic and endless possibility, as was mine in Colorado.

*Originally posted July 2009.