Summer is here! As a kid, I enjoyed school. In fact, I was one of those nerdy teacher’s pet types that the other kids hate. (Sorry if you were one of those other kids!) But I was as excited as anyone on the last day of school. Summer meant freedom—freedom to be outside and enjoy nature, to lie around reading book after book, to draw and paint and, once I got a camera, to take pictures. No schedule to follow, no homework to do. A few chores, of course, but my mom wasn’t very demanding in that area. So I had plenty of time to cuddle the cat, pay fetch with the dog, and watch to see what new kinds of birds visited our yard.
Sadly, when I grew up, summer lost much of its magic. Now I was expected to work year-round. I got a couple of weeks off for vacation, but otherwise, summer meant a hot drive and a long, sweaty day of work. Even when I quit to raise kids, summer meant long, hot days. I don’t deal well with hot weather. Just ask my husband. And it was a long time before our house had any kind of air conditioning. So I sweated and grumbled and didn’t sleep well. When we finally got air conditioners for two of our windows, I was ecstatic. I expect my husband was, too, since my grumbling diminished greatly.
Funny how our perspective changes as we grow up. What do I miss out on when I stay inside near the air conditioner? A memory flits through my mind of a much younger me traipsing through the grass thick with dew, feeling the cool wetness soak through my shoes. Binoculars around my neck, bird book in hand, I listened for morning bird song, watched for feathered creatures flitting from branch to branch. Life seemed perfect to me then.
Maybe that’s why I write for children. Through my characters, I can retreat to the wondrous time of childhood, when all the world seemed fresh and new. My poor characters end up with a lot more struggles than I ever faced. (A book needs conflict!) But they grow and learn without losing their sense of wonder. And maybe they give a bit of it back to me.
