Sitting in a galvanized tub full of tepid water, mama scrubbing my back and behind my ears and between my toes.  Yawning as I slip into my pajamas and go crawl into the squeaky old bed in the back bedroom and drop right off to sleep.  Sitting on Grandma’s front porch at night, swatting at “skeeters” and watching a million lightening bugs light up against the backdrop of the mountain, and hearing the great big old bullfrogs over in the pond saying “galluummmp, galluuuump”, being afraid to go out to the out-house after dark because I might step on one.  Hearing the creek run, swollen nearly over it’s bed, like a musical lulliby after hard rain.  Wading over slippery rocks in that same cold creek, in it’s refreshing water, catching crawdads to sell for bait over at the store.  Rides in the back of uncle Stan’s truck back when you could still do that kind of thing, wind whipping our long hair into knots.  Sitting around playing cards or spoons, or singing while Aunt Gwen strummed her guitar.  Roasting hot dogs over an open fire, the family gathered around, big kids, little kids, all playing together.  A garden full of corn and taters and green beans.  “Fat-back bacon”, sliced red tomatoes, gravy, biscuits and eggs cooked on a cast-iron stove and in a cast-iron skillet for breaksfast, beans and cornbread, cucumbers in vinegar for dinner,  fudge and popcorn of an evening. Soft pale yellow baby chicks under a heat lamp on the floor.  Grandma’s perfume bottles and talcum powder and 3 or 4 girl cousins and sisters crowded in a tiny bathroom with one mirror, primping and putting on makeup and curling our hair.  Hand-made quilts, picture albums with old black and white photos that sort of look like peope we know, but not sure who they are.  Rooster crowing at dawn. Climbing up to the look-out tower, nervous to feel it sway, but what an awesome view of the hills for miles!  Going to the flea market at White Sulpher and finding all sorts of treasures wth my two dollars of allowance money.  Sitting in the back of the station wagon as we head toward home, tired and a little sad to leave loved ones behind, as night falls, lying back and looking up at the stars and drifting off into a contented sleep with the fresh air from open windows blowing over me.  Kids and summer in the hills, buddy we had it made and we didn’t even know it!  Treasured memories of summer.