Friday, February 19, 2010

Summer in the Sixties

I think my cousin Danny must have been driving that old beat up truck
Helen and I sat on the black, sun-faded roof of the cab
We bounced through the hayfield
While the older boys loaded bales of hay into the bed of the pickup
The sun beat down on us.
The thing I remember most about that day is how hot it was.
The surface of the truck burned our bare skin.
Dust motes sparkled in the air.
We were kids having a summer adventure on the farm that neighbored Uncle Dan's.
Decorum didn't matter; there were no rules to follow.

Later we would have a swim in the creek that ran along the back of Uncle Dan's farm
Floating in giant black inner tubes pulled from tractor tires, we went with the gentle current.
That creek is a faraway place now;
It has disappeared in the distance of the many years that have passed.
It was a time of magic;
I milked a cow,
Played in the hayloft,
Learned to make butter from fresh cow's milk.
Never thought it strange that Uncle Dan's place had a two-seater outhouse.

I loved my cousins, Danny and Helen, Diane and Barbie, and "little" Steve because he was younger than my brother "big" Steve.

It's all a comfortable memory, lost in a summer's haze.

1 comment:

blueladie said...

WOW! Really neat Sherry. Thanks for sharing here.
Cathryn