What We Did On Summer Vacation

by Ryan and Sammmie Freeman

We played, danced and sang with friends. We hiked and biked and played tennis and swam until our fingers were pruned. We watched mommy pack bags, unpack them, repack them, wash the contents and then pack and unpack them again. We did some modeling and started a lemonade stand. We went through 10 packs of bandaids, 5 boxes of popsicles, 4 bathing suits, 6 pairs of flip flops and countless trips to the yogurt shop. We climbed trees, rode in a wagon, learned to do a backflip in the pool and ride a bike without training wheels. We fell in love with the iPad and iTouch and Highschool Musical. We saw fireworks in Montecito and lightening in Las Vegas and dolphins in Manhattan Beach. We (Ryan) turned 6. We (Sammie) turned comedian. We grew up and mommy told us to stop but again, we didn't listen. Sometimes we're that way.

Accidents Happen

During our usual, okay, not usual but once monthly, Sunday family dinners we ask one another what our favorite part of the weekend was. This Sunday however, Jim asked what was our least favorite part of the weekend; a question prompted by the fact that the four of us were in a car accident on Saturday. In the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a horrible accident. Everyone walked away uninjured, both cars were drivable if banged up and it appears the damage will cost a mere $5,000 or so. I say "mere" because I just spent over $3,000 on normal maintenance for the car so a bit more than that and I'm getting a brand new rear passenger door, side panel, quarter panel, wheel and alignment and probably a few other things I know nothing about. At the time of the accident, however, it seemed pretty horrible. I can't say that my life flashed in front of my eyes as Jim swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid a guy doing an illegal u-turn across four lanes of traffic but after impact and the immediate interrogating of the kids to make sure everyone was okay, it was pretty scary. The protective mom instinct kicked in and I was ready to yell at the other driver for endangering my family when I saw that they too had two children in car seats and the wife was pregnant with a third. They couldn't have been 30 years old and were new to town and lost and extremely apologetic. Apparently we were in their blind spot. Everyone was fine but by the thinest of margins. It's amazing how quickly things can go from being great to horrible or even potentially horrible. A blink of the eye.

Light On

It doesn't seem so long ago that I would come home from a night out with my girlfriends and see a light on in the front bedroom window of the house next door. It might be 1:00 am or 2:00 am but most nights, that light would be on. I would knock on glass pane gently and slide myself behind the rose bushes and wait for the shuffle of his feet and lifting of the blinds. After a few seconds to let his eyes adjust to the light, there would be recognition, a brief smile and the window would rise.

My friend's bedroom was equal parts fascinating and slovenly and I loved it because it was so uniquely him. Modest in size, twin bed, hardwood floors, desk with a computer (this is back when not everyone had computers and if they did, the machines took up the whole desk and some of the floor) and clothes half in and half out of the closet. Desktop and bookshelf space was at a premium, cluttered with disassembled Rubik's cubes, magnets and batteries, Physics books and Charles Dickens, paper airplanes, paper clips and paper balls. He was always collecting things and dissecting them and analyzing them, a habit for which his room suffered but in which his brain reveled.

He would plop back on his bed and say hello, the easy greeting of a best friend. We might have discussed the night's events or not, maybe we talked about school or family or some television show. He probably asked me some philosophical question about the social contract and I probably rolled by eyes and told him about the new drinking game I learned. With my arms propped on the window sill, my head and shoulders inside his room and the rest of my body still sharing space with the rose bushes, we would just hang out. Sometimes I climbed through the window, sometimes not. Sometimes I stayed there for hours, sometimes for minutes. Sometimes we just watched each other for things unsaid.

Once or twice we toyed with being more than friends. Toyed is the right word since we were too young to do anything other than play at it. Try it out briefly and see how it felt. One summer we held hands on the couch every opportunity we got. We never discussed it and it ended as quickly as it started. His first girlfriend bothered me, not her but the fact he was sharing his life with a girl other than me. He was always there and as I got older I felt that if we wanted to pick things up, we could. He was a permanent fixture in my life and I in his. Until he wasn't.

Those foggy nights hanging out at his window seem like yesterday but were actually 25 years ago; three times as long as which he and I were neighbors but I can still recall the comfort of seeing his light on at 2am.