A Watermelon Sort of Day

Watermelon DayWhat could be better on a hot sticky day than to be a kid sitting on a porch eating watermelon.

What I wouldn’t give to be that, just for a little while. Carefree, happy, cool, covered with watermelon juice and not even noticing.

It’s been a rough few days, albeit, a rough few weeks but it seemed to come to a head yesterday and all the worry and running and aches and fears piled into one night of non stop tears and despair.

When I saw this picture on my friends Facebook feed I just wanted to jump through the screen onto her porch to join those little darlings.  Some days I just don’t want to be a grownup.

Do you remember the watermelon days?  Can you glimpse with me into your past just for a moment to a time and place where you and perhaps a similar group of children sat together eating watermelon?

When my Dad cut the watermelon he always told us the story about the little boy he and Mom saw on their honeymoon.  He was sitting on street corner eating watermelon in a way that looked sort of like the roller on the typewriter.  He just chewed his way all the way across the top and then at the end, where if a typewriter, it would ding, he would spit out a mouthful of seeds, turn his head and start all over again.  Of course Dad had to include the motions with the story and usually managed to put on a fairly decent show of spitting seeds out too.  He lacked the space in his teeth of a seven year old black kid in Florida but I think he had been practicing before we got there.

I haven’t been able to eat watermelon since without thinking of that little boy in Florida.

The crowd I ate watermelon with as a child was either my cousins or the gang from Elm Park.  Our little community at home grew from six permanent families in winter with a total of four kids to 20 families in the summer with too many kids to count in the cottages surrounding our home.

With my cousins it would often be a gathering on the top of the little hill at Grandpa Mac’s house or on the rickety old porch/walkway to the back door of my uncle’s farmhouse. In later years we would gather every summer and the same picture would appear with our own children sitting in a row eating watermelon after a great day of swimming and eating together.

With my own kids it was also the neighbourhood kids who gathered to eat watermelon and when they were at our house they would sit on the porch and have a seed spitting contest to see who could get them the furthest.  Each spring in my flower garden I would find the remnants from the previous summer’s spitting.  There were always several watermelon growing in the garden.

There is just something about hot muggy days and watermelon that brings back all the goodness of things just not being more important than the moment at hand.

Bring watermelon and we’ll laugh and spit..

About Peggy Guiler

You just never know what show up on my blog. As the name implies it is about the stuff of life just like Spilt Milk. Everyday events spark thought and contemplation. Special events in the community, the country or the world may strike a cord and get me talking. Sometimes it's about people in my life or circumstances, sometimes about my garden, sometimes about a book or a political issue. Always it's about something I am passionate about. In my business, River of Hope Enterprises (www.riverofhopeenterprises.com), I work as an "Certified Coach" (International Coach Federation), a trainer, consultant and speaker. and as a spiritual director. I also drive a school bus to keep the wolf from the door while I build my business. I love the kids on the bus (most of the time). My family is grown and I have three grandkids who thrill my heart but I don't get to see any of them very often. Circumstances of life have made "family" difficult. My son died by suicide at age 16 in 2000 and the strain on our family relationships since has been huge. Mental health is a field where I worked for almost 22 years and where I still do some consulting and training. That combined with my own battle with depression and my son's death weave together to form some of my greatest soap box items: suicide intervention, suicide bereavement and peer support in mental health are right on the top of my list. Social justice is an underlying passion. Keeping the wolf from the door as a single parent was full-time work and my career path as a journalists was augmented with cleaning contracts, cooking, retail clerk, and bartending. I have known hard work and am grateful for the experience and perspective it has given me. A firmly grounded faith and a passion for learning has now taken me toward a new field as a Spiritual Director and I am soon adding to that a license to marry people. As I move toward retirement I am very aware that I have to keep working so I chose to do things which will meet my modest financial needs and also my love of supporting people in their life journey. Woven into all of this is my love of writing. Trained as a Journalist, and having worked in the field as a freelance news writer for many years, I have a great love for writing. This blog is a new beginning for me. As I hone my skills and begin to form a daily discipline of writing I hope it will lead to more writing in the future.
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