I can hear my little brothers playing down the street and around the corner. By a trick of distance, their voices echo...

I can remember being 7, and playing with pleasant abandon all day.

I remember when dinnertime was a grievance; every meal a race. I remember cold popsicles--my favorite was orange--that melted too fast. I remember the sting of a scraped knee mingling with the sting of peroxide.

I remember playing with the neighbor girl's new pug-faced puppy, and nearly suffocating him in his new styrofoam "house". I remember trying to sell my prized possessions in a garage sale before my mother stopped me.

I remember how I got the scar on the knuckle of my left ring finger--pushing an empty stroller down the driveway at Millenbach, and tripping, my finger crushed underneath.

I remember Mrs. B handing me a pale yellow iris--the first 'real' flower I ever had--from her garden. I remember my first piano teacher.

I remember rolling down a hill with my cousins in Ohio, and landing in poison ivy. I remember my Aunt handing out creamsicles afterwards--and I was hooked for life.

I remember the first time my dad put on 'Tomorrow is My Dancing Day' for my sister and me, and let us dance our hearts out.

I remember playing "boys against the girls", and being on the boys side.

I remember what it was like to be a kid.

Summertime is for remembering.