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I can remember my summers as a child. They were long and lazy and spent locally- having fun with the neighborhood kids playing man hunt, down the shore or in the Poconos. When we “traveled” it was always my nana and mom, my brother and I and that brilliant forest green bikini that I rocked for years. I was always freckled and flushed pink with color and had a wide smile on my face that went on for days.
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How Many Summers Do You Have left? I can remember my summers as a child. They were long and lazy and spent locally- having fun with the neighborhood kids playing man hunt, down the shore or in the Poconos. When we “traveled” it was always my nana and mom, my brother and I and that brilliant forest green bikini that I rocked for years. I was always freckled and flushed pink with color and had a wide smile on my face that went on for days. I remember the year when I took my first swim in the ocean and my mom taught me to float on my back. We would take naps on the beach, read books, I’d bicker with my brother about the tan index and we’d eat seafood for dinner. When we ventured on our first “real” family vacation to Puerta Vallarta, Mexico, I was in high school and I vividly remember blasting the Janet Jackson “IF” album around the pool as if it had religious meaning. I was living the good life! I was tan (although that’s relative), my hair was taute with braids, and I existed without a care in the world with the people I loved the most. My brother and I forged new paths- sneaking cervezas at the bar, buying chiclets from the locals and venturing into town. Our commute home from town wasn’t as care-free, as we got stuck on a 30 passenger bus with about 90 people (no SERIOUSLY), but it’s a memory we laugh about to this day and one I will never forget. WWW.BLACKWHITEREADALLOVER.NET
