Just a memory:

I fell asleep last night listening to the rain falling on the first floor patio roof right outside the window of my temporary home in Hawaii. I was transported back to my 13^th summer when I spent a glorious two months in Maine. Friends of my father had a summer camp on Little Sebago Lake and they invited me to stay with them.

Their daughter, Nancy, and I shared the bunkhouse for our bedroom. It was a little out-building that consisted of a small bedroom on one side, and an outhouse on the other side. Our bedroom, just yards from the main house, was only large enough to accommodate a bunk bed, a dresser and a chair. No insulation, no heat, no inner walls. Needless to say, it was rustic. Needless to say, I loved it. There were two amenities, however: electricity and curtains for privacy.

Nancy was, and still is of course, at least three years older than me. I know that because I remember that she had her driver’s license. The fact that she pleasantly put up with a “child” such as myself (I didn’t become a ‘teenager’ until the end of the summer), was pretty impressive. Considering the difference in our ages we got along very well and had some good times together.

It was a magical summer for me. Being able to swim in the lake any time I wanted to, making new friends who lived along the same road, going barefoot almost 24/7, sleeping in the top bunk, blueberry picking (which resulted in fresh homemade blueberry pie every time) and being away from the grime and heat of a NYC summer were just some of the joys I experienced during those two months.

But I digress. Many nights I would lie in my top bunk listening to the rain fall on the roof only inches from my head. That’s a sound like no other and one that’s hard to come by these days, for me at least. I live in a home with a well-insulated roof and an attic in between the roof and the ceiling of my bedroom. Even when the rain is falling, its sound is muffled. I’m thankful for my home and for the way it protects me from the elements. But I do miss the sound of the rain on the roof.

So as I lay in bed last night, enjoying the warmth of an Hawaiian winter evening, I also enjoyed the sound of the rain that reminded me of that sweeter time in my life. A time when my most difficult decisions were which shorts I should wear and should I go swimming now or get the gang and go swimming with them?

This is something that I know--It was a good way to fall asleep, remembering that 13^th summer at the lake in Maine.