Of Ice Cream Trucks and Fireflies: Make Time to Play

(originally posted June, 2007)

I've taken to spending a little time in the evenings to just chill on my front steps and take in my neighbors -- essentially doing as the Romans do, in Rome. While most of the time it's pretty quiet, you can't NOT know that you're in the hood on my block. I've come to welcome the sights and sounds of people just enjoying the nights, and the children at play.

I got to thinking about the things I loved doing the most in those hot Pennsylvania summers... when I was a little girl, there was nothing in the world like beating the streetlights home to avoid a whuppin'. Sometimes I'd get to see Joe, the Mister Softee man, and get some ice cream (even it meant chasing the truck up Third Avenue), and that was a treat beyond compare -- either that or going to Dairy Queen on Freeport Road.

I remember knowing when it was really summertime -- watching the sunsets from Grandma's front porch and seeing the redness in the sky fade to a gorgeous indigo blue that I don't see here in the sunsets. (Maybe it's the environment, maybe it's a facet of having grown older, but there is no place I've ever been where the sky is that particular shade of blue).

The biggest (and most-awaited) hallmark of summer was lightning bugs, or more accurately, the pursuit thereof. Me and my younger cousins, or me and my best friend would wait anxiously for an empty jelly jar and lid to turn up. We'd find a small nail and pop a few holes in the lid for ventilation... and then we'd wait for nightfall.

It seemed almost magical... those tiny little greenish-yellow flashing, floating orbs... There was a big streetlight not far from my grandparents' small back yard, so we didn't get many there, but up the alley towards my Aunt Ruth's house where it was darker, there'd be TONS of them. Sometimes we'd have to wait, but then we'd see that flicker and run, screaming "OoOOh.. THERE'S ONE!!!" Sometimes we'd put them in the jars, and sometimes we'd just let them crawl on our hands and then let them fly away (we weren't the gross kids who'd smash them and let the bug juice glow on our clothes... our parents would have beaten the black off'n us!)

I wonder how many adults realize that sometimes we need to "play" too... to get out in the air, or dirt or grass and run, and jump and laugh and get dirty.... and come in smelling like a puppy (surely my gran wasn't the only one that used to say that). I went out for drinks with my sewing buddy Friday night and we BOTH remarked how good it was to get out together and just talk and enjoy ourselves. We laughed ourselves stupid, and I went home and practically passed out on the couch. I even slept past 8:00 am on a Saturday which is VERY rare for me.

I plumb tuckered myself out, playing with my friends, and it felt GOOD!!!

I've been a bad girl, and haven't allotted myself enough play time in recent months. No more. It's time to sketch out a few more of the ideas I've had for swimsuits and lingerie designs. It's time to get together more often with my creative friends and learn some wire work to make jewelry (productive hobbies make that time spent all the MORE valuable).

My goal for this summer and beyond is to get back to doing the things that I enjoy the most -- I have realized just how much of life has passed me by, in the pursuit of "things." Not only that... I'm spending more and more hours either in the office or commuting, which doesn't leave a whole lot of time to enjoy the "stuff" I've been trying to amass. *sigh*

Playtime.. here I come!