I was just talking about spring the other day. Sitting here today, I realized that means that summer isn’t far behind. As a child, summers meant endless days at the beach, reading book after book after book – sometimes well into the night. My grandmother and I would stay at our house there from late June (when school let out) until a day before it started back up again. I would play at the beach or with my beach friends (though back then there weren’t many kids my age around there). But mostly I would read and write and imagine (and spend a hell of a lot of time in the sand and water).
There was this one summer where I decided that my closet should be my private “office” for writing. I dragged an old side table from the basement up two flights of stairs and stuck it in there . . . then I got this purple file case and put that in there too. And by the light of a flashlight hung from the closet rod, I had light . . . hey, it was a creative venture.
I can’t say I always appreciated the gift of being at the beach all summer – sometimes I wanted to be home with my friends or at least have someone my age around. That was the tough part, but at the same time it was the part that made it great. Without the distraction of a million friends buzzing around I was free to let my creative juices flow wildly. I created poem after poem, and thought up story after story.
For sure, it was a whole lot of good times.
There are somethings that bring me back there, reminding me of the happy days I spent with my grandmother. One of those things is IBC Root Beer (no kidding!).
See, back when Chili’s was still a primarily Mexican restaurant with great tacos, yummy nachos and remarkable chili, my grandmother and I would occasionally drop in for dinner during summers at the beach. I’d usually eat a plate of nachos. I can’t remember for certain what she would eat though. I wish I could. Taco salads sometimes, I think. But what I do remember is each ordering an IBC Root Beer. It would come chilled with a frosty mug and would taste oh so yummy. Having an IBC was a special treat and I would savor every drop.
And drinking the IBC you see pictured while writing this, I still savor every drop. And I miss her so much.