Someone's post on Facebook today brought back an unexpected memory that made me smile. We lived 2 blocks from the school (yes, the one and only school in town; elementary and high school) and sometimes the marching band would come out to practice, marching right by our house. It always felt like it was a surprise present just for us, and we'd drop everything to go listen and watch as the teenagers in uniforms marched by with drums, saxophones, clarinets, and tubas. Thinking about that reminded me of other memories, like hearing the fire siren blow and jumping in the car to go chase the fire trucks.
Taking Miss Pepper, the dog, to Dairy Queen for an ice cream cone. And Butterscotch Dilly Bars!
Bowling night for Mom, when Dad would make us popcorn in the electric skillet, but pretend all night he wasn't going to this week. Bowling night for Dad, when Mom would wax the hardwood floors and we'd take turns running and sliding in the hallway with just our socks on (it was also bath night). That tradition ended when I got a huge sliver and had to have a tetanus shot and stitches.
Laying out on the cool grass late at night watching a meteor shower because Dewey Berquist said we should (Dewey was the weatherman on TV, and we donated our grandfather's telescope to him so we felt like we were his friends).
Making the first snowman of the year and getting our picture in the paper for it.
And riding on top of the firetruck with the sirens blasting on Halloween. If we were real lucky we'd get to sit inside and actually blow the siren ourselves.
The smell of burning leaves in the air. The last day of school. The feel of a fish tugging on our line.
Today I watched two hummingbirds chase each other, up and down, in circles, and side to side. It almost seemed like they were dancing for me. It felt like the school's marching band was coming down our street, playing just for us.
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