A Summer’s Day which burned

Another mundane morning of driver’s training. Three kids. An instructor who said, “go 40 on 40.” His way of attempting to be funny. Long story. Along with many other sayings he used. You would only understand if you grew up in our two-bit town.

So glad to be out of that car. I was leaning against the bars, in front of my high school, waiting for one of my parents to take me home. My shirt and shorts stuck to me and I shifted uncomfortably. My hands had taken on that smell of the iron bars, and they began turning red. I brushed the flecks of silver off onto my shorts.

Just another summer day.  June 23.

Fifteen years old and very self-conscious, I was sure hoping someone would come soon. Often the last one snatched up from every school event. Some kids were laughing nearby.

Audrey and I had gone down the country road the night before. She was riding bike alongside me, as I jogged. We talked and laughed, mocked a few people going by. Normal teenage sister things.

Not far down the road, we decided to come back and listen to some of Audrey’s albums on the record player. She had all these “78” records of new bands. We danced and ate snacks. The daylight lingered and twilight shone into the living room long.

She had gone off to college and left me home that year. In our tumultuous household. So many letters written back and forth. How I longed for that summer of catching up with her. The M.S.U little sister weekend was in the distant past. Now she was here with me- to play tennis, talk about boys, take me out to the movies. Four weeks of idolizing her.

She was my big sister. Only mine.

Plans for the summer. Telling secrets about silly boyfriends I had crushes on. Being eighteen already, made her an expert in my eyes. Many slumber parties in her room. Talking and giggling until my dad’s deep voice would echo up the stairs, with a warning to quiet down. Then we’d giggle some more with our mouths covered, biting our fingers to stifle the noise. What was so funny?

I thought the sun rose and set on her.

 

Fleeting thoughts of the night before ran through my mind again.  I wondered what Audrey and I could do that day, when she got out of work. Maybe we would go to the beach.

Instead of one of my parents driving up, I saw my Aunt and Uncle. They were elderly and never came into my school yard. My Aunt walked straight to me, moving faster than I had ever seen her move. She uttered words that burned deep and changed my life in drastic ways.

Have you had times which are etched so deeply into your mind? Why do you think that happens?

 

 

 

About Myrna Folkert

Myrna is an author who desires to use her gifts to glorify God. She's created this blog to tell stories of her childhood, musings about life, motherless daughters, grief and loss, faith in God, her family history, and facts about the Long QT syndrome. She also has a hearing condition called Tinnitus. Doing interviews with motherless daughters like herself are of great interest. Join in discussions by following this blog and commenting. She would love to hear your stories about life. Myrna is a Christ follower, wife, mother, sister, friend, aunt, and cousin. She was an elementary school teacher for 27 years; now works in her church, and a few other volunteer activities such as Hospice doing "Life Reviews" and Vigils. Myrna loves to read, write, listen to music, go to concerts, and take pictures. Her favorite pastime is boating with her husband near the beautiful shores of West Michigan.
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6 Responses to A Summer’s Day which burned

  1. Wanda says:

    Myrna,
    Love your story and your writing is so comforting. Some of my favorite lines, The M.S,U, little sister weekend was in the distant past, She was my big sister. Only mine, Telling secrets about silly boyfriends I had crushes on, loved it all. But what did the Aunt & Uncle tell you? Don’t leave us hanging.
    God bless,
    Wanda

    Like

  2. Denise Vredevoogd says:

    The exquisite details in your recounting of this memory are so helpful. I can see you there and feel the suspense, fear, and anxiety. Thanks for being transparent. Now, as Wanda said, let us know “the rest of the story.” Your words may help someone else heal from a similar trauma. Blessings on your conference this weekend.

    Like

    • myrnafolkert says:

      Denise, as I told Wanda, I wanted to leave the reader wanting to turn the page to the next chapter! Plus I am trying to keep the blog posts shorter to keep interest. I sure appreciate my expert friends with so much experience giving me input. Now that I finally figured out “line numbering” I’ll begin bringing things to the group times. Thank you so much for the encouragement! You both are such a blessing!

      Like

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