My employer's young daughter was in the office yesterday with her Grandma, and I asked her how she felt about school being out. She gave a long, blissful sigh and declared that it was wonderful. She mentioned that she had a new collection of books that had been saved just for summer perusal.
That triggered memories of the days when I was her age, and school ended. I so well remember when I was naive enough to think that summer was as long as the school year. For me, the summer stretched ahead endlessly. I was a real bookworm and Mama would make regular trips with me to the library so I had plenty of reading to do. In addition, the library always had a big book sale at the beginning of summer and I would buy a brown paper bag full of books to read. I traveled to many places via my books and could nearly always be found with my nose in one.
Every so often, Mama would decide that I needed some fresh air and would insist that I go outside to play. I became adept at hiding a book somewhere on my person, and climbing a tree to continue reading. I have since learned that Mama knew what I was doing, but figured I was at least getting some benefit from being outside.
Life changed forever the year that I was old enough to comprehend that the school year was 3 times as long as summer. It seemed that the weeks just flew by and in no time, we were back on that detested yellow bus.
I would love to once again have the feeling of freedom generated by those simple words, "School's Out For Summer!"