and then i started thinking about the memoirs we wrote in ap lit senior year. we could write about any memory we wanted, and i immediately thought of my favorite memory with my mom. so here's the memoir i wrote. it's called "the summer of happiness".
It is a warm summer day. The sun is shining and there is a gentle breeze in the air.
“Stephy! Lunch is here!” I hear my mom call to me. I swim to the edge of the pool and lift myself up and out of the water. I look around at my surroundings. I see the familiar setting of the Country Club Pool, my second home in the summer. I scramble over to our seats in the shade and grab a big fluffy towel that smells of countless summer memories.
My mom is setting out my favorite lunch as I dry off: chicken fingers, fries, extra ketchup, and a blue-raspberry slushy. We make small talk but mostly just enjoy each other’s company as we eat our scrumptious meals.
This is how I have always remembered spending my summers. Almost everyday consists of swimming at the place I consider my own. All of the lifeguards let me sit with them while on duty and the entire wait staff knows me by name. The world did not need to be bigger than that fenced in pool area; I had all of the happiness a girl could ask for right here.
I look at my mom sitting across from me as she holds her latest novel in one hand and a french fry in the other. She’s wearing a big sun hat and a protective cover up, even though we’re seated in the shade. This is one of the changes I’ve noticed in my mother lately. The sun is her worst enemy and sunscreen her best friend. She never explains to me why our new favorite section has suddenly moved to the area shaded by the big Oak tree, but I just accept the changes and don’t think much of it.
My mom looks up at me now and notices me watching her. She smiles and puts her book down She asks me how my food is, but already knows the answer.
“Yummy!” I tell her as I eat the last of the fries.
I yawn widely and realize how tired I have become. I walk over to her and sit in her lap, resting my head on her shoulder. She lies down on the pool chair and I snuggle up in her arms.
“Mommy, will you tell me a story?” I ask her, already feeling the calm tiredness coming over me.
So she begins my favorite fairytale, the one about a special little princess with beautiful long hair who meets her perfect prince and achieves all of her dreams. I drift off to sleep as her voice fills my mind and the tranquility of the moment takes over. I could lay like that forever, a daughter in her mother’s arms.
I awake on that same chair eleven years later on a dreary summer day with the same long hair, except I am no longer in my mother’s arms. It seems her darling little princess lost her protector to a demon called cancer and those magical summers disappeared. I sit up and look around. I am laying in our normal spot in the shade but there is no laughter to fills my ears and no companion by my side. I lay back down and close my eyes, desperate to see her face again, to feel her warmth, to recognize her love. But the images are gone, washed away by the sadness that fills my mind. With a heavy heart I realize that my memories are all I have left of my mother and the summers we shared can only be relived in my dreams.