Buddhist Catholic Contemplative Evangelical General Christian Hindu Jewish Latter-day Saint Muslim New Visions Progressive Christian

Beliefs

Topics

Columnists

Resource Library

Research Tools

Video

Podcasts

Thought Readers

Faith In Media Tracker

Newsletters

Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In Subscription Support

Follow Patheos

Irreverin

Home
Progressive Christian
Wednesday Writing Prompt: When Summer Was Outside

Wednesday Writing Prompt: When Summer Was Outside

Last updated on: May 23, 2018 at 1:03 pm by Erin Wathen

Wednesday Writing Prompt: When Summer Was Outside 2018-05-23T13:03:02-07:00 Erin Wathen

LOGO Patheos Explore the world's faith through different perspectives on religion and spirituality! Patheos has the views of the prevalent religions and spiritualities of the world.

For today’s Wednesday writing prompt, I was going to invite you to describe a summer day from your childhood. But now we’re going to crank that up a notch.

Because my friend Brandon wrote this amazing thing yesterday…this wonderfully apocalyptic (in the most biblical sense of the world) piece has got all my wheels turning. Go on and read it now. We’ll wait…

Ok, right?? I read it yesterday and my mind is still blown.

In the spirit of this future dystopia, here’s your prompt: Think about a summer day from your childhood. Any day, whether very typical or wonderfully atypical. And then write a letter or poem to your grandkids describing to them what summer was like… back when you could still spend summer outside.

Yes, that’s my way of saying that we’re heading for a future when kids will spend whole summers indoors. And not just because they are woefully buried in their screens or whatever digital something is inevitably next. They will be parked in the a/c for the whole stretch of May to September because the day is coming when it will be too dang hot to play outside.

Lately, I’m feeling like those days are not far off.

Granted, I spent seven summers in Phoenix, where staying inside for the summer is already a thing. You take your kids at the park at 6am, just so they can burn off some energy before the sun climbs its way to full-on meltdown position. And then, for the most part, you spend the rest of your day in the air-conditioned house, car, office or public library. (Thank you, Lord, for public libraries, in all kinds of weather). I was pregnant for two of those summers. And if sometime, you want to talk about misery, for real, I can tell you what it’s like being 8-months pregnant when it is 119-degrees-in-the-shade. And you can’t even have a beer. (Or at least, you can’t have 3).

The desert has its redeeming qualities. In many ways, we could have stayed there forever. One of the reasons we finally left though, was to escape those unbearable stretches of heat. We wanted our kids to be able to play outside in the summer –like we did growing up.

Maybe now I’m just old and literally can’t take the heat. Or maybe those two sweltering pregnancies destroyed my body’s ability to cope with the sun. But since moving to the Midwest, I’m finding that there are fewer and fewer summer days that I can stand to be outside, even here. A lot of days, I don’t even want to make my kids play out there. The last two summers in Kansas City have been miserable scorchers, with many triple-digit-days, record-breaking humidity, and heat that often lingers well into October.

So most days in summer, I still get up super early with my kids and take a walk to the park, just to get some movement in before the sidewalk becomes a sweltering slab of hot lava melting our Tevas… and then it is mostly inside for the day, or else they come to the church office with me. Where we also stay inside. We are bookworms and writers around here, so it isn’t the worst thing. But still. Say what you will, climate change deniers, but I do not remember summers being this trifling hot mess when I was a kid.

I mean, here it is May and my car thermostat has already registered upper 90s a couple of times. We’re still a full month out from actual summer.

Assuming we are on a trajectory here… I figure our grandkids will be swimming and playing baseball from February to April (much like in Phoenix now) and then camping out on the couch for the duration. What will you tell them about what summer was when it was still an outside time? Whether because of climate change, or busy schedules, or just the general business of being grown-ups (lame), I know one thing for sure: none of us play outside enough anymore.

Anyway, here’s mine.

Oh, June. I remember you different.

I remember when you were all freedom and sunshine.

Not bright-white-stinging-sun. Warm-friendly-soft-singing sun.

I remember you before you were so angry, and dry and gray.

Before we drained the joy from your face with our always wanting more.

We had those terrible popsicles–that came in all the colors?

That stained our teeth and tongues and dripped down our elbows

And then I guess we too often left those plastic tubes on the ground for you.

June, I remember when you were road trips and families

fighting and singing and fighting some more in the car.

and we got where we were going and there were cookouts

where it was never, almost ever, too hot for freeze tag.

There were burgers and hot dogs and more of those terrible popsicles, in a cooler this time.

And yes, maybe we left our paper plates and cups and napkins and straws and more of those plastic tube things overflowing the trash can

And yes, maybe we didn’t much care where all those burgers were coming from, or what the cows ate, or how many the miles to our picnic table.

And then it was just a few more miles of emissions to get us home.

Do you remember, June, when there were kickballs

and metal swingsets, and baseball bats,

that didn’t burn our fingers to the touch?

I remember, June, when you loved us more often with rain

And the green things you brought up from the earth had a chance to breathe

before your sun sapped them brown and dry again. I remember more rainbows, too.

I remember when you were all morning mist and long, lingering twilights

Getting cooler and cooler until we almost needed a jacket to out at night

and chase lightning bugs. Or ‘fireflies,’ as the fancy town people call them.

You never make us wear a jacket anymore. Not even at night.

And since we moved all the trees, I can’t remember… I can’t remember last time I saw a firefly.

Being a Person

desert life

Uncategorized

Writing Prompt Wednesday

climate change

global warming

progressive christianity

spirituality

summer

writing

writing prompt wednesday

Previous Post

May 22, 2018

Very Christian White Guys: Here's the Problem with Complementarianism

Next Post

May 29, 2018 "The White Man's Guide to Not Being a Jerk," Abridged

Browse Our Archives

Select a Category a good week for progress Advent and Christmas Being a Person desert life faith and community Good News for Progressives Lent and Easter Marriage and Family S*^! Jesus Says sabbatical road tripping Spirituality in Culture Talking to Strangers the "Best Stuff I Ever Ate" diet travel Uncategorized writing Writing Prompt Wednesday

Select a Month January 2021 December 2020 November 2020 September 2020 August 2020 July 2020 June 2020 May 2020 April 2020 March 2020 February 2020 January 2020 December 2019 November 2019 October 2019 September 2019 August 2019 July 2019 June 2019 May 2019 April 2019 March 2019 February 2019 January 2019 December 2018 November 2018 October 2018 September 2018 August 2018 July 2018 June 2018 May 2018 April 2018 March 2018 February 2018 January 2018 December 2017 November 2017 October 2017 September 2017 August 2017 July 2017 June 2017 May 2017 April 2017 March 2017 February 2017 January 2017 December 2016 November 2016 October 2016 September 2016 August 2016 July 2016 June 2016 May 2016 April 2016 March 2016 February 2016 January 2016 December 2015 November 2015 October 2015 September 2015 August 2015 July 2015 June 2015 May 2015 April 2015 March 2015 February 2015 January 2015 December 2014 November 2014 October 2014 September 2014 August 2014 July 2014 June 2014 May 2014 April 2014 March 2014 February 2014 January 2014 December 2013 November 2013 October 2013 September 2013 August 2013 July 2013 June 2013 May 2013 April 2013 March 2013 February 2013 January 2013 December 2012 November 2012 October 2012 September 2012 August 2012 July 2012 June 2012 May 2012 April 2012 March 2012 February 2012 January 2012 December 2011 November 2011 October 2011 September 2011 August 2011 July 2011 June 2011 May 2011 April 2011 February 2011 July 2010 May 2010 April 2010 March 2010 January 2010 December 2009 November 2009 October 2009 September 2009 August 2009

TAKE THE

Religious Wisdom Quiz

Who said: "Michael the archangel, when contending with the devil he disputed about the body of Moses, dared not bring against him a reviling accusation"?

Select your answer to see how you score.

Peter Jude James Paul