Ingredients of Summer

Summers meant abandoned classrooms and reclaiming the open air. Forays into the woods to walk ankle-deep with minnows through a shallow creek bed. Glass jars, lids studded with nail holes, illuminated with lightening bugs' glow. Sleeping, tucked underneath the stars in my neighbor's treehouse - waking to breakfasts of crepes with strawberries and scrambled cheese eggs, recipes so familiar cookbooks were never opened. Pick-up games wherever a soccer ball and open backyard presented themselves. The clank of aluminum bats. Tennis balls pounding garage doors, seeking the sweet spots of rackets. Bicycle baskets and roller skates rumbling against pavement. Skinned knees and grass-stained shirts. Hide 'n seek at dusk. Popsicles melting against warm hands. Sprinklers and slick bare feet. The clang of the dinner bell and shouts of my mother calling me home. And ice cream. Always, ice cream.