Looking back on all the summers of my childhood, certain events and experiences stick out, but for the most part, they run together in sort of a thematic way.
I remember that summer playing with the two sons of Bolivian ambassadors who lived with our neighbors while their parents fulfilled their duties in D.C....I wonder where they are now.
I remember summers spent at football camps and two-a-days with my dad because both my parents worked, and me and my brother couldn't stay home alone...to this I attribute my skill of how to correctly throw a football.
I remember another summer filled with swimming lessons and a trip to Disney World...and starting my period for the first time the day before we left on that forever long drive to Orlando.
In my teens, I remember a summer of camping and beach trips with my future husband...and getting my finger slammed in the hood of a car (which is still crooked).
I remember multiple summers spent life guarding at our neighborhood pool....and the ridiculous tan I developed...and also thinking I was pretty much the bomb diggity.
Before we were married, I remember a summer of mountain vacations to Colorado and Maine...some of the best memories ever made.