… so, I’m saving these memories for when it’s cold

That orange ball, up in the sky,
it baked the earth
and made us sweat
and sigh ---
how slowly days went by …
under it’s grip.
And though, we toiled
during the day ---
sometimes by evening
the heat eased away …
and when it did
how pleased we were
to sit
or snooze
or simply be …
At night,
with windows open, wide,
the crickets argued …
They chirped
and chirped
and wouldn’t quit …
their bickering lulled us
all to sleep.
Life wasn’t complicated
then --- not all.
No cells phones to charge;
no malls to tour.
Mothers were home;
dinners were grand …
most of our stuff
was second hand.
On Saturdays ---
Daddy was chef, for the day.
He cooked
hot dogs and hamburgers
in a make-shift way …
not on some fancy
contraption or grill …
just cinderblocks gathered
and fired away!
We kids, in the yard,
were hungry as bears.
We drank lemonade …
in the shade …
‘neath some trees, in the back.
How we ate
and laughed;
we thought we would bust …
and swatted mosquitos
when they tried to eat us!
Vacations were never
arranged or planned ---
just spontaneous days
with our feet in the sand.
A place to unwind ---
to frolic
and sing;
to rest and do …
not a single thing!
In some ways,
our life was harder, then.
Nothing came easy
that had to be done.
We shelled peas;
mended trousers
and hung the wash, out ---
it danced on the clothesline
if a breeze, came about.
Our garden we tended
with daily devotion ---
but hours of work
went into this venture.
All that watering
the picking
the bending …
but those juicy tomatoes
were God’s invention!
Summer ---
a time for picnics
and strolls;
for sun tans
bare feet …
and a good, garden hose.
A time to remember
when winter unfolds …
so, I’m saving these memories
for when it’s cold.
- by Ruth Cronin

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