I was 10 and summer was hot. The neighborhood pool was the main attraction and I can still remember trying to stay above the water while lifting my leg straight up in the air, toe pointed, in the synchronized swimming routine. It was night and we wore headlamps while doing formations to Elton John’s Yellow Brick Road. I must say, it was pretty spectacular.
When you’re ten, times are good and worries small. My folks bought a run down house in Ann Arbor, Michigan, with bread stickers on my bedroom door – a former dart board. They fixed it up and Mom bought a new couch with plant patterns, and plastic runners to protect the carpet. Still that was no guarantee from three children…
Mollie had a yellow banana seat bike, Mark had tricycle, and Andy across the street had a red banana seat bike. I don’t remember what I had, just the brilliance of Mollie’s long yellow seat with a silver bar above it. Just calling for your bum to sit on it.
When you’re a kid, and it’s the heat of the summer, there’s no distinction between the beginning or end of the day. It’s just one long stream of swimming, riding and barefoot-ness that runs from light to dark to light, stretching out before you with no end, no cares, and no school. Just one long banana seat.
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