Her favorite season was summer, for with it brought her July birthday, and the sunshine. Summer was a time of freedom from routine, a time to be outside under the trees, behold the colorful flowers her mother had planted in gardens all over their property, practice her cartwheels and handsprings safely on the soft grass beneath her feet. There were cherries and berries to pick, pies to make, and the children's hands were always stained and sticky, their faces smiling.
On those summer mornings all the dolls would come outside along with beds, clothes, buggies. She and her sister would create an entire world under the canopy of trees. There they would play make believe and chatter amongst themselves, dressing their babies, feeding them, putting them to sleep. Their husbands, Johnny and Roy, were firefighters, always working; it was a logical profession and suited them just fine.
Their mother would pack the children a lunch, crush ice and put it in a red plaid thermos with sweet berry juice, let them eat outside on a blanket. Somehow these picnics were so much more special than meals indoors.
It wasn't until dusk that all the dolls would be carted in, in a little red wagon, and stored in the basement in a large brown trunk until the next play day.
How magical that time was, when imagination would determine the movement of an entire day.
She was so happy, this little girl, with her built in best friend sister, and she would fall asleep at night listening to crickets outside her window, dreaming of a life she would one day create.
