When I was a kid, we moved every two years. The only real reason seemed to be that was that my parents have a short attention span. (They still do - they’ve been in their current house just over a year). Anyhow, in Grade 8, we moved over the summer. The last week of August, we had an appointment to go meet my new teacher.
I dressed up in my best Back to School clothes.(I seem to remember purple pants and a thin cotton purple sweater. Ick! Well it was 1981.) Anyhow, we met the guy. Then we went for a drive, down to Lake Erie. We walked down to the edge and watched the water. It was a hot day. The waves were crashing against the shore. I was thinking bittersweet thoughts about starting a new school and making a good impression and getting older. Would I make new friends? Would they like me? Then, my mother pushed me into the lake.
I laughed and laughed and spent the next hour jumping in the waves. And then we went for ice cream as I dripped in the back seat. (Sweaters don’t dry quickly.)
I still smile when I think about it.
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