The air was always thick with chlorine and Hawiian Tropic suntan oil. You could hear multiple radios playing anything from Three Dog Night to The Carpenters. Girls, young and old alike wore bikini's, and I never really understood why.  I mean some of the 'Mothers' truly should have not been wearing a two-piece bathing suit of any kind. But they wore them just the same. There were no men here, or should I say very few men over the age of eighteen. We saw men whizzing past in golf carts but rarely ever inside the chain-length fence. There were exceptions to this rule but only a very special occasion brought the 'dads' into our little world.

This was Summer to me and many others just like me. This was Summer at the country club, a place I never associated with any kind of privilege, ever.  In fact when I was older I often felt a little silly recanting my Summer's there, I didn't want to sound snooty, especially given my geographical locale. The Monday-Saturday was always the same; up at 9:00 a.m. rushing to make beds, straighten the house, defrost something for dinner and out the door usually with a packed lunch in hand (we may have summered at the CC but we had our limits) there were optimum sun 'hours' to be enjoyed and my Mother had a tan quota to meet. This extensive sun exposure led to many a day caked in zinc oxide, freckles, and I fear a yet undetected melanoma or twelve.

We did this same routine for years. This was Summer.

Can you tell I'm ready for warmer weather?