To Help Me Cope With Anything

When I was younger, I would wear my bathing suit day and night throughout the entire summer. I lived in it.

Each morning, I'd wake up wearing nothing but my suit. I would stagger down to the kitchen in my bathing suit and a pair of shorts I had pulled on.

I knew weeding our half acre garden was always the large chore of the day. So I'd pour myself a big bowl of grape nuts to put off the inevitable as long as I could manage.

It was hot. It was humid. It was Pennsylvania.

Still, if we worked hard enough, we were taken swimming nearly everyday by one in the afternoon. So after the garden, I'd grab my towel and actually use my swimming suit.

My siblings and I would come home tuckered out and I'd lie down on the couch and fall asleep. When I woke, it was usually time to set the table, eat dinner, do the dishes, and I even have a few good memories of our family messing around and playing summer games outside.

All was done in my suit.

We'd come in after the sky would darken and watch television. We'd go back out again and watch the lightening bugs.

I'd sleepily stagger back up to bed in my suit and fall asleep.

The next morning was exactly the same, only tasks of snapping green beans, pitting cherries, skinning onions, canning in general, hanging sheets on the line, burning papers (which means absolutely nothing to you unless you're part of my family), and the likes can be substituted for the gardening.

Most often though, all of it was followed by swimming, napping, eating, playing, and bedtime.

I know this seems unorthodox at best if not down right disgusting to most. I lived in my suit and had I not had church every Sunday, I would have spent the entirety of my summer in it. As is, the days I spent out of my suit would have been less that two actual weeks worth.

I'm missing the beach. What I would give to be in Hawaii right now, with no fewer than two weeks of vacation ahead of me, a pair of shoes, a skirt, and a swimming suit.