Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Memories of June

baseball glove
I've always felt June got shorted. April has April Fool's Day, May has Mayday -- along with Cinco de Mayo -- and then here comes poor June with nothing. It's like being a bridesmaid at a wedding with one of the groomsmen out sick. As the other couples are walking back down the aisle, she's bringing up the rear, smiling bravely -- and wishing she was somewhere else.

When I was a kid, of course, the first of June signaled the end, or close to, of school. Any time spent in class after that date was torture, even worse than what I'd experienced the ninth months previously. Visions of prison camp danced in my head as I imagined my teacher morphing into a whip-cracking taskmaster to rival Severus Snape. Well, maybe it wasn't quite that bad, but it sure seemed like it.

Fortunately, the weeks of freedom that followed were filled with baseball, riding horses, and exploring the woods and fields near our home. Those days come to mind while planning the next three weeks of board preparation. But it's different now, since I'm the one insisting on time before the computer, hoping the pile of review books almost brushing the ceiling doesn't come crashing down on my head.

It also helps not having my friends knocking at the door, wondering if I've gotten a new outfielder's mitt or a list of chores to perform that my father left for me, considerately, before driving to work. Knowing all my work will permit me to begin rotations in August is payment enough, but there's still the memory of summer days with cool mornings and warm nights, that come trickling into consciousness, reminding me that June is here, at last.

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