{*Did you know you can write on Elephant? Here’s how—big changes: How to Write & Make Money or at least Be of Benefit on Elephant. ~ Waylon}

~

The whole month of June (just like a Sunday afternoon) is a feeling.

Early summer brings blue skies, bursting perennials, and heat waves.

Back in 1985, I had just finished my junior year of high school (a pivotal moment in time), and I had the whole summer ahead of me. Things felt sticky but promising.

Today felt a little like that.

Muggy, hot. A relentless sun playing the long game. The kind of chart-topping heat that makes you wonder if you could maybe fry an egg on a rock. The kind of steamy air that induces sluggish yawning followed by a snooze in the hammock. Nature’s Melatonin.

As a kid, we didn’t have air-conditioning. We had Candlewood Lake, though. It shimmered and beckoned like a debutante in a ball gown, but it could have been my living room for the amount of time I spent floating around on the overfilled, black tire tube I looted from the gas station at the bottom of the hill. I was simply “doin’ nothin’” because there was “nothin’ to do.”

Bored? No.

A calm, uncluttered, quiet brain? Yes.

Today was the kind of day that reminded me of the times I lay out at the end of the diving board, like a lizard in the sun, periodically rolling off sideways, plopping unceremoniously into the water. The jolt of cool refreshing liquid would envelope me, punching my senses awake for a moment. To stay alive, I had to forcefully push air out of my nose and wildly kick my way to the surface. In a flash, I’d be back on the diving board to rest from the rush, and repeat the same scenario countless times before heading up to the house for my mother’s casually prepared but highly anticipated mac salad, potato chips, and grilled hot dog dinner. Damn, I can taste it still.

In June, my legs felt smooth and lean. I didn’t care at all about my hair other than wanting it to look streaky and sun-kissed like Daryl Hannah in the movie Splash. I wanted so many things that summer, but mostly I just wanted a hot new boyfriend. I had my eye on a couple who were roaming around my neighborhood. There was the celebrated summer transplant New Yorker, embedded squarely inside my memory bank of personal folklore, and also my brother’s friend, the funny one from Sherman.

That summer felt alive with the charge of possibility. I was at a crossroads of sorts. I was a child in so many ways but edging closer to adulthood. And…I had a real job.

As you can imagine, being the town cheese monger was super glamorous. It was demanding and fairly high profile. Working the counter at Stop & Shop and filling the cases with expensive, mostly imported cheeses would prove to be a valuable building block for my resume, but more importantly, my character. It was a step up from the bra and panty department at Bradlees where I had worked all winter and it was a tad more interesting to boot.

In the cheese department, I was responsible for cutting the cheese wheels into smaller chunks for sale. I would wrap each one in cellophane, look up the SKU, weigh it, and add the price sticker. Part of the labeling process included typing in the name of the cheese. Here and there, to amuse myself, I added some knee-slapping humor to the equation: “Stinky Limburger $7.42.”

I was the Cheese Girl. Subsequently (and of course!), the jokes about my job followed me everywhere, but I didn’t care. I thought it was funny too. Occasionally, because I am who I am, I would cut a ridiculously large piece and garnish it with an outlandish price tag: $82.13 for a huge hunk of “Ripe & Ready Blue”—a funky, tongue-curling cheese that could last a year or two for a family of four. I did the same with tiny cheese slivers: “A Bitty Bite of Buttery Brie, $1.03.”

This was some of my strongest material back then, and messing with my boss was something I liked to do. It’s something I still like do. Luckily, this entertainment brought her and I both a bit of pleasure and laughter to a mundane job performed under fluorescent lights, coupled with Muzak wafting through the atmosphere, and the gentle, un-paced rhythm of 10 beeping cash registers in the distance.

I believe in the comedic side of life. We are nothing without laughter.

Between my job, and keeping my eyes peeled for cute boys and swimming whenever I wanted to, I had zero responsibilities. I had nothin’ to do, but had some fun doin’ nothin’ too. I was “ripe and ready” in my own little world, waiting for something exciting to happen.

Having the whole summer ahead of us is a childhood gift, a coming of age movie, and a wistful, poignant memory wrapped in barbecue sauce and topped with rays of golden sunshine that just don’t quit.

Today reminded me.

Call me cheesy and sentimental if you want, but for me, the feeling never goes away. Even now.

And so I will move past the shallows and take a resolute plunge with a giggle. I will swim like the girl I once was, riding the heavy waves of June, a June currently swelling with potential and breaking with hope—this, my 55th one.

~

{Please consider Boosting our authors’ articles in their first week to help them win Elephant’s Ecosystem so they can get paid and write more.}