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Wait, summer! We’re not ready for you to go yet

Submitted by on Monday, 21 September 2009 No Comment

big_guy_swimTwo months and nine days after Big Guy’s summer fell from the monkey bars and came crashing to an end, he got it back.

He actually got lucky – his wrist was supposed to have been in a cast for an additional two weeks but his milk addiction sped his bone build-up and his recovery. Friday, he was freed.

He forgot all about our planned trip to the library when the doctor told him he could abandon the leather brace he’d worn for the final three weeks of his confinement. “Can we go to the pool instead. Please, please, please!” he danced.

I figured it must be really important if he’d used one of his polite words not once, but three times. So I agreed.

I would have gotten how important it was even with out the multiple “pleases.” I’d known since the day he wept as we drained the pool at the old house., standing by and crying as it drooped inch by inch. “Poolie! Poolie! Please don’t go!”

I was reminded when Dad texted us pictures of the new one pool – a meandering structure complete with a giant mushroom and water canons – that Big Guy looked at over and over again with a combination of excitement and sadness.

And it was reiterated  whenever we went to the park across from the pool and Big Guy  would look  through the fence with a sad, wistful longing. “I’ll never get to go in that pool,” he’d moan.

Ay, but that’s part of the wonder of desert, where mid-September is not too late for a dip in the pool. Neither is mid-October for that matter. Somewhere around Thanksgiving it starts to get a little nippy – if you accept the low 80s as nippy.

We were barely inside the gate leading to the pool Friday when Big Guy started shedding shirts and shoes. Then he stopped, pausing to take it all in. The red and white mushroom and its welcoming spray. The giant hoops you could walk through at the pool’s edge. The water canons – perfect for annihilating your brother.

“I’m here! I’m here! I can’t believe I’m here!” he danced, smiling his most beautiful smile. He was so happy it took him an hour to remember to shoot his brother.

There are still boxes to unpack and portraits to hang. Bedrooms to decorate and toys to organize.

But all that can wait until a nippy 70-degree day in December. For now, a little boy is chasing his lost summer, and he deserves to be able to catch it.

Copyright 2009 Debra Legg. All rights reserved

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