Jun 23, 2009 by Rochelle
In Hawaii and completely happy (1987).
It’s not hard for me to remember what it was like to have a summer vacation, because I certainly had some good ones. Like every kid, I used to love the hot sun, days at the pool, eating ice cream before it melted, hair that smelled like chlorine, or a swimming suit that smelled like the sea.
I thrived during the summer. I was like a little fish, always in the water, and preferably under water. It was the 80s, so I pretended that I was a mermaid like in the moving Splash.
And since it was the 80s, I’m not exactly sure my mom or dad was slathering us with sun block. In fact, I think I rarely put it on. So I was always suffered that first sun burn of the season and then I sported a dark tan until October.
Somehow, I never felt the need to wear my hair up in a ponytail, even though I must have been hot. Especially, before 3rd grade, which was when I got my first haircut (big mistake by the way).
And I certainly didn’t mind slipping down a metal slide in 100 degree weather while wearing tiny shorts. Nope, it was all good. The burn, the heat, the oppressive sun. Because it was time to play. The only thing that miffed me was the afternoon storms that forced me to get out of the pool and into the house.
And then of course there were all those great big family trips we took. At least a week or two, most likely on some kind of road trip to an even hotter location like Las Vegas or Arizona, and of course Disneyland. I had no problem standing on the hot pavement waiting in line to go on the Jungle Cruise.
Summers meant so much to me all the way through college. And I longed for them in the winter.
But then a funny thing happened, which probably happens to a lot of people. Work happened. And at my job the summer is the busiest time. Ever since 2002, I have been planted inside an air-conditioned office, staring at something other than the sky. And slowly over the years my body and my lifestyle have adapted to it. No longer can I lay out on a lounge chair and read a book in between dips in the pool, where I do backwards somersaults and handstands. Playing tennis in the middle of a hot day seems like torture. And a beach – well it’s been years. I don’t remember the smell of the sea on a swimsuit or the feeling of hot sand between my toes. These days, I’m full of complaints about the heat. I long for those rainy afternoons when it clouds up. And a summer vacation? Is that even possible? I haven’t taken a real one that lasted more than a weekend since 2000.
I may never get my summers back or feel okay with the heat like I once used to, but I could be a little more cheery about it. I could go to the pool on the weekends, and take a few days off without anyone complaining. I need to embrace the sun and get a tan. And since they just rebuilt the pool where I live, and it’s super nice, I need to visit it. I’d like to go underwater, which to me is one of the best feelings in the world. I don’t want another summer to escape me.
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