I have these memories of sun tea when I was a kid, setting it out on the porch and then running off to play. I never drank tea when I was little, but it’s still associated with the sweetness of summer. The heat of summer in Roswell, NM, where you couldn’t run barefoot on the sidewalk, and the incredibly blue sky. Where you could run around the neighborhood all day and no one worried about it. And the freedom of knowing I had time. Summer was so long, I never considered that it would end in August. I just spent every day being a kid. I kind of miss those days. So this year I was thrilled to get a sun tea jar, so I can sit outside and watch the dark tea slowly stain the water.
The other very distinct sensory memory I have from childhood is the scent of lilacs. Every time I smell it I have to stop a minute and take a deep breath. We had a huge lilac tree (bush?) in our backyard, which was one of my favorite places in the world. I had to walk past the tree every time I went into the backyard, and that scent is all tangled up with memories of climbing trees and the tire swing, of writing ridiculous poetry and making s’mores at the very far end of the yard, the “secret” club my friends and I made, the mushy mulberries all over the ground.
I sometimes fear that I’ll forget my childhood and all the sweet, silly things about it, but I think that as long as I can make sun tea and smell the lilacs I’ll remember.
