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Book of Days

BOOK OF DAYS: A POET AND NATURALIST TRIES TO FIND POETRY IN EVERY DAY

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September 1: Water Play

Kristen Lindquist

It was so hot today that they let school out early. Only in Maine! My neighbors across the street coped with the day's heat by laying out a tarp on a small hill in their back yard and running the hose to create a water slide of sorts. The four little boys, tanned and tow-headed from a summer spent on the beach and running around outside, happily slid down the wet tarp over and over. The youngest child, a little girl still young enough to play outside with no clothes on, wanted to join in. But soon she was crying. I looked over with some concern, but her mother explained--as she carried off the wet, naked baby--that the girl had slid too fast down the tarp and it scared her. By next summer she'll be old enough to join her brothers without tears, I'm sure.

I remember the first time I ever realized that a girl wasn't supposed to walk around without a shirt on. It was a hot summer day like this one, and I was seven years old. Without even thinking about it, I went outside to play with just shorts on. At some point, one of my friend's mother told me that I needed to put a shirt on because I was a girl. It made no sense to me, because my chest didn't look any different from a boy's chest. But, self-conscious, I went home and changed my clothes. And never went topless again. Except for the occasional skinny-dipping indulgence, which would have felt really nice on a day like this.

A simple cool-down:
four tan little boys, a tarp,
a hose, a back yard.