story writing on summer
Answers
Answer:
A strong contender for my all-time best summer came when I was nine years old and expecting to be miserable.
My father had a work assignment in Exeter, New Hampshire. The whole family would live in a rental unit during the summer. Can you imagine anything worse than no friends and being hundreds of miles from home and sharing a bunk bed with your sister? Your older sister who’d already dibbed top bunk?
My parents quickly pointed out that we’d rent a cottage in Hampton Beach, New Hampshire, within walking distance to the beach. We’d go on an airplane, see the city of Boston, and the dog and cat could come too. I think the flying sold me. I mean, what could be more glamorous than Eastern Airlines?!
Then there was great stuff they didn’t mention because they were adults.
Like that I could wade among the rocks of Hampton Beach for hours and hours, catching crabs and sea urchins. That being unafraid to touch them (or toads or frogs), meant I’d be the cool kid for the first time ever. That we’d eat lobster and crab legs instead of fried catfish. That antique shopping with mom meant I’d get to go out back of the shop and dig around for vintage cobalt-blue bottles. That we’d take the Blue Nose Ferry to Canada, and that mom would buy us look-alike outfits for the occasion. Lime-green windbreaker suits with a big daisy applique. Cool.
Make yourself a brainstorm like this and start recalling your magical summer.