The Sun Will Alway Beam Once More

I’ve always been fond of the expression “growing up in a summer haze.” I can easily daydream about my own idyllic childhood summer day: bees buzzing, sitting in a deckchair with my siblings surrounding me, iced drink to hand, juicy sliced mangoes and a never ending supply of quenepas (momoncillos) at reach. All is well in the world. No worries. Just fun. The days overlap and there is little difference between night and day. I imagine a simple, pleasant summer full of fun, adventure, and a sense of security, as you're surrounded with those you love.

This easy-to-imagine, sublime summer mist is a concept that is somewhat foreign to my childhood and growing years. I understood it. I wished I had it. I yearned for it. I wish my own children (current and future ones!) to have a nice big slice of it! We all have our own memories and meaning of summer. My summers weren’t always too “hot,” if you know what I mean.

There were short periods of time in my childhood and younger teen years when I had myself a good piece of this summer haze. I fondly remember spending hours alone behind my abuela’s (grandma's) house in Puerto Rico, playing with all of my barbies and stuffed animals.  I’d “cook” a scrumptious meal for them, made of all of my magical ingredients: crushed bugs, chicken feathers, egg shells, mud, leaves, etc. I'd pretend I was their mommy AND the perfect chef. Sometimes, I’d spend all day down at the river with my siblings and cousins. We would jump off of huge boulders into the inviting river and catch creepy-crawly crabs and colorful fish with our bare hands! That was my ideal summer. I loved bugs. I loved dirt. I loved water.
 

Often these safe periods in my life were crudely ended by experiences that would later leave me with deep and unmentionable (for years) emotional scars... scars that not even the safest and warmest future summer haze could conceal.

One day, without warning, my abuela and I drove to an office building in the pueblo (down town). I think I was about five or six.  I remember walking into the A/C cooled office space. I remember appreciating the contrast from the stiff and hot summery air outside. I recall sitting in that cold waiting room for what seemed like hours, -- goose bumps on my arms and legs. 
 

I remember a woman with a penciled skirt and a shiny necklace calling us (abuela and me) back from the waiting room to meet an elderly couple who had arrived. I approached curiously, becoming more concerned and skeptical by the moment. This couple people would soon rip me from my home and siblings. I was being “given away.” I did not understand. I did not know what I did wrong. I felt sorry that I had ever misbehaved.  I remember wondering if my sisters knew about this transaction and agreed to “give me away.”  “Why didn't they want me?” I thought to myself frantically.  I remember the burn on my cheeks. The heat radiating from my face. The cooling tears streaming down and the saltiness they left on my lips. The fear consumed me. I held on tightly to my abuela, but she did not hold me back. It was time for me to go with Them… my new foster parents. I don't blame my grandma for the heartache and fear I endured, but this pain was certainly the effect of some action taken by someone somewhere along the way. I love my abuela and all that she did for us. Still, that is one unpleasant summer memory that will remain unforgotten.   

 

Because of the quality of life I grew up with and the challenges I've faced, I’ve come to really value summers, and quality of life experiences in general. Everyone (children especially) deserves good summer memories! Memories allow us to make sense of the world and people around us. It makes us who we are today. Summer is a time for new beginnings and unforgettable activities. I hope to provide my children with great summer memories and the skills to deal with the not-so-ideal summer experiences. There will always be a new summer to plan for, traditions to start, and a family to grow! So no matter how not-so-hot your summers may have been, the sun will always beam down once more.