A Simple Time

The memory, so sharp I can taste it, returns with the muffled yet still loud rumble of the lawnmower outside my window.

In my mind’s eye, the long ago vision is restored. That sense of comfort and ease of a simple time.

It’s the heat of summer. The young girl that I am hears the mower Daddy pushes in the backyard, but my focus is out the front window. Grandma and Grandpa, who never say a cross word, who live their lives in a kind and gentle manner, are making the hour and a half drive to our house.

The lawnmower shuts off and the sliding glass door that leads up to our backyard, opens.

“Carolyn?”

I jump off the bed and make it to the family room where, hours later, the sofa will transform into a bed for my sister and I.

“Time to shuck the corn,” Daddy says.

Mom busies herself in the kitchen while Daddy and I sit on the back porch, my mouth watering at the smell of barbecue coming from the grill next to us. I yank on the husks until they are forever severed from the corn, then throw them in the paper bag. If we are having green beans, I will snap those as well.

And after a day of food and joy, smiles and laughter, all is quiet except for the grandfather clock ticking on the mantle. I lay next to my older sister on the sofa bed knowing my parents and grandparents are just down the hall. The sofa mattress is lumpy, the springs too close to the surface. It is the most comfortable place in the world.

Memories, senses filled with sounds, smells and tastes of, not only summer, but of love and joy and calm.

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