I was awakened with warm, golden hour rays of eastern sunrise shining through white linen curtains, gently ruffled by the morning breeze that carried the scent of honeysuckle and blackberries. The dirt and grass-stained soles of my feet slid into my metallic silver jelly sandals, creating lasting criss-crossed diamond indentations over the tops of them. I adorned my neck, wrists and ankles with rainbow candy jewelry, and a fresh, multi-faceted grape Ring Pop on my tiny finger. I filled my pockets with packs of Fun Dip and Pop Rocks, along with Polly Pocket and a pack of Chiclets. I pulled my hair into a banana clip and applied fresh pink polka dots of Calamine Lotion to my skin, then off I went to fetch my breakfast: Kool-Aid (the “red kind”), strawberry Pop-Tarts and Count Chocula cereal.

Outside, the Pennsylvania air was already humid. A thin white layer of fog crept over the glistening dew-covered lawn from the creek bed. Waiting for my brothers to awaken, I crouched down, pulling fat, wriggling worms from the mud to use as tackle later, in case we couldn’t find a can of corn. Early morning bees worked over the clovers and tiny white moths flitted o’ertop the thistles.

The night before, the smell of petrichor permeated the air, and the sky hosted a plethora of grey monochromatic cumulonimbus clouds. Heat lightning crackled statically through the atmosphere, and raindrops trickled like a river down the rainspouts. If there were storms on the horizon this morning, we would have to play inside. This meant sliding and climbing Chutes and Ladders, trudging through Molasses Swamp and Gumdrop Mountain in Candyland, and popping dice with the plastic dome in Trouble. We’d turn the cogs in Downfall, build empires in Risk and knock Sorry! pieces off the board.

We’d play tiddlywinks and pick-up-sticks, Lincoln Logs and fingerpaints. Three-course meals would be made with Play-Doh, and civil wars would be started over Uno Draw Fours. We would build card castles and run through endless games of Go Fish, Old Maid and Skip-bo.

I’d gather my Jem dolls and Barbies, along with her Corvette and Jeep that pulled a boat, as well as her horse, and trailer, and imagined all the places that we could travel to. I’d invite the gal pals over to call up boyfriends on Dream Phone and go shopping in Mall Madness. We’d play hand-clapping games like Miss Mary Mack, and Miss Susie Had A Steamboat. Dance routines were performed to songs we recorded onto blank cassette tapes from the radio, as the hours and the rain passed by.

After the midday meal of Lunchables, Cheetos, Funyuns, Fruit Roll-ups, Snack Packs and Capri Sun, we’d finally head outside. All the neighborhood kids met at the spigot and we filled our Super Soakers and water guns with the hose, while also drinking from it and we placed fresh rolls and caps into our cap guns.

We bounced a rubber ball and collected jacks on the hot sidewalk, which we lined with hopscotch grids and sidewalk chalk art. We caught caterpillars and ladybugs, and created ecosystems inside Mason jars with grass and sticks. We tied long ropes to trees and played Double-Dutch, chanting as we weaved and hopped between them, ever so careful not to step on a crack (or it would break your mother’s back).

On particularly scorching days, the yellow runway of the Slip ‘N Slide was spread down steep hill sides and we frolicked through lawn sprinklers. Badminton marathons commenced until our feet were muddy, our hair and clothing stuck to our sweaty bodies and our skin was a patchwork of bug bites and sun. We cooled off in the creek while casting out a few lines, skipped rocks, caught crayfish and minnows and dared each other to go into “the deep end,” all while keeping a steadfast eye out for snapping turtles.

Summer evenings meant baseball games. Pooling all of our change, we stocked up on Chic-O-Sticks, Snickers bars and purple and red Swedish fish. Inside the little shack between the dugouts, we took turns announcing who was on deck and who was in the hole. As we chewed wads of watermelon Bubblicious gum, blowing bubbles as big as our heads, we shared our Bazooka Joe comics. We changed the innings and tallied the score and the sun began to set over the lit-up scoreboard. Sunflower seed shells surrounded us like empty clams on a beach. If team Rotary beat team VFW, we indulged in a celebratory pint of blue Little Hugs drinks and puffed away on chalky candy cigarettes, blowing invisible sugar ringlets through the fence and across home plate.

We rode our bikes home, ramping curbs and popping wheelies through town. Silky corn husks littered the porch, and a large glass jar of amber-hued heirloom Kentucky Colonel Mint sun tea sat brewing. Through the kitchen window, we heard Mom boiling ears of corn on the stove and slicing tomatoes for sandwiches, cucumbers and onions for cucumber salad. Dad stood over the sink, hand-grinding ice and salt for homemade ice cream. Rainbow sprinkles, chopped peanuts and jars of cherries, pineapple sauce and Hershey’s syrup sat nearby on the counter. A ring of angel food cake and a green paper bushel of fresh, hand-picked strawberries sat on top of the deep freezer.

We set the table and placed ice cubes inside empty Welch’s jam jars that were painted with the likes of Tom and Jerry, Snoopy and the Muppet Babies. We said Grace, blessed the food and thanked God and our parents for all the hard work that they did to provide us with it. We ate together as a family, respectfully passing each other mayonnaise, bread, salt, pepper, sugar. We didn’t watch T.V. and we didn’t have cellphones or tablets to distract us. We shared stories about our day and laughed, our hearts and bellies full.

After everyone helped clean up, we all went out to sit a spell on the porch or in the yard. The sky turned from indigo to black and the stars shown like hyper white paint traversed across an endless easel. Side by side on the porch swing, Dad with his loose tobacco pipe and Mom content with reading a book from the light of citronella candles, my brothers and I set out to catch lightning bugs, play flashlight tag and hide-and-go-seek in the dark. All was quiet, but for the gentle roar of the creek, a wailing pair of loons floating underneath the bridge, and the intermittent zap of the insect zapper, casting sudden neon purple shadows through the night.