Summertime Magic: When Heatwaves Were a Playground

*"Summer is more than just a time of year; it's a whole vibe. Sun high, shoes off, hearts wide open." 🌈🍧

Thanks, chili! I can clearly recall the first time the weatherman appeared on the television screen and said, "We're experiencing a heatwave—stay indoors, stay hydrated, and whatever you do, stay cool!" in that serious tone. Now listen—grown-up me? h, I’d take that advice in a heartbeat. 'd be lying down like a king under a fluffy throw with a remote in one hand and snacks in the other, the air conditioner on full blast, ceiling fans turning in every room, and a tall glass of cold lemonade sweating on the table. But back then? h please. hat was just noise in the background. You could’ve said it was 1,000 degrees and the sun was falling out of of the sky—we’d still be outside! e weren’t worried about heat warnings. e were kids. ummer wasn’t summer unless you were outside with your crew, soaking up the sun like it was a requirement for happiness.

It was go time from the end of the school year. We'd wake up with no alarms, no worries—just that buzzing feeling in your chest like you knew today was going to to be a good one. ou’d throw on whatever t-shirt and shorts combo your mom didn’t mind you getting dirty in, grab your flip-flops or those dollar-store water shoes, and head out the door. he air would already be hot, thick like it was giving you a hug the second you stepped outside.

Now, let me talk to you about the outside. Not the front porch. ot the tiny shaded area near the house. I mean from the outside in. As in, our playground covered the entire neighborhood. Our block, the complex, the alley behind Miss Rhonda’s house—every inch of it was fair game. nd the way we’d move through it? ike little warriors on a mission to squeeze every drop of joy from the day.

And you knew it was going to be a hot one when the ground started sizzling before noon. he kind of hot that made the pavement look like it was waving at you. he kind of hot where you had to hop across the sidewalk like you were playing lava because your flip-flops were melting thin. But we didn’t care. ven though we ran, yelled, laughed, and danced like we were in a music video, sweat trickled down our faces like we were working on a building. We all had inexpensive plastic water guns from the corner store. Let me tell you, those little things made us feel armed and dangerous, even though they barely held a cup of water and sprayed more. We’d form teams, plot sneak attacks, and run from one end of the complex to the other like we were in a summer blockbuster. f somebody had the nerve to bring out a Super Soaker? h baby, that was the boss level of water wars. hat person instantly became public enemy number one and had to be stopped. 😂

And then there was the crown jewel of summer—the fire hydrant. awd, when did did that thing get cracked open? t was like church. omebody’s older cousin—you know,, the one who always wore house shoes outside and smelled like cologne and mischief—would magically know how to twist that thing just right, and boom! he street would be cut off in the middle by a tsunami. We’d scream like we hit the lottery. ike it was the only thing that could save our little lives, we ran straight into that icy water. Boys would try to do flips in the stream, girls would spin around like ballerinas, and toddlers would scream with joy like they had just learned the meaning of happiness. And of course, the aunties would be on their porches, shaking their heads and laughing, fans in hand, yelling, “Y’all better not bring all that water in this house!”

The boomboxuld simultaneously play some well-known summer tunes. You could count on at least one speaker blasting Frankie Beverly & Maze or some Bobby Brown or even a little SWV—whatever the mood called for. he soundtrack of our lives. t was its own kind of symphony when that music was mixed with laughter, water splashing, and kids chasing each other. Then just when the water battle was getting good, just when your shirt was dripping and your hair was stuck to your face, you’d hear it…

🎵 Do-do-do-do-dooo… do-do-do-do-dooooo… 🎵

Hold up.

Was that…?

Yes. ES. he ice cream truck.

Now you want toto see real speed? ou never saw kids move so fast. e’d freeze for half a second to locate the sound, then break into a sprint like we were in the Olympics. ICE CREAM TRUCK!" would be screamed by someone. and it turned on. Each child for their own use. We’d run to whoever had the money—your mama, grandma, older sibling, neighbor, somebody—screaming, “Can I get a dollar?! lease! ’ll clean my room!” nd if you were one of the lucky ones to get a full dollar bill or a couple of quarters clutched in your wet little hand, you were rich. ich-rich.

That truck would roll through the complex like a celebrity. t was surrounded by people like Beyoncé. And the meal plan? Whew, child, it was a buffet of happiness. ou had your rocket pops, your Ninja Turtle ice cream with the gumball eyes (half the time those eyes were lopsided, but we didn’t care), Choco Tacos, strawberry shortcake bars, push-pops, fudge bars, and those bomb pops that turned your tongue three different colors. on't even get me started on the candy section, which included lemonheads, chips, sour straws, and those little quarter juices that came in plastic barrels with foil tops. Whew!

We’d sit on the curb with our treasures, licking and munching while the sun baked us like biscuits, and nothing—nothing—tasted as good as that cold, sweet treat after a full day of running wild.

And even after the fire hydrant and the ice cream truck, we weren’t done. We’d move into phase three of the day: games. e played everything. reeze tag, hide-and-seek, red light green light, hopscotch, or “Mother,, May I?” nd if someone brought out a jump rope? t was on. irls with their hair in beads would double-dutch like it was a championship event. he songs we chanted had secret magic in them—spells passed down through generations of playground legends.

And the guys? Oh, they’d play basketball with half-inflated balls on makeshift hoops, talking trash like they were in the NBA. ome kids, acting like daredevils, would ride their bikes in circles or race down the block without using their hands. It was a full-on festival every single day.

As the sun started to dip low and turn the sky that beautiful golden-orange, the vibe would mellow. e would begin to slow down, landing on steps or lying in the grass to take a breath and let the cool air soothe our sticky skin. And then came the moment. he momentsignaled the day was almost done. he street lamps. Buzz. licker. lick.

That glow came on like clockwork, and every kid knew the deal.

"That's it, everyone! Time to go in!" Trying to squeeze in five more minutes, some would linger. Others ran straight home before theirr mama had to call their whole name out the window (and you did not want that to happen). e’d all wave goodbye like it was the last day of school.

“Bye! 'll see you all tomorrow! “Same time!”

“Bring your water gun!”

We would return home wet, exhausted, and content. Clothes clinging to our skin, arms sticky with sugar, knees scraped from all the fun. he smell of barbecue smoke and fresh-cut grass was was still floating in the air.

And when I’d finally crawl into bed, with the fan blowing straight in my face, I’d close my eyes and feel like I had lived a whole lifetime that day. ike I had really done something special.

Since I had. Those summer days, those heatwaves, those moments—they were magic. Kindness is magic in its purest, most beautiful form. The kind that gets etched in your heart and stays there. The kind that you look back on with a smile so big, it makes your eyes water just a little. You are so thankful, not because you are sad. Therefore, now, whenever the weatherman announces that it will be hot, I not only hear a warning but also the music of my youth. I hear laughter, water splashing, jump rope songs, and ice cream jingles. feel the sun on my skin, the excitement in my chest, and the freedom in my soul.

I also smile. Because that heatwave didn’t stop us—it made us.

**"Some people call it a heatwave; we called it the best time of our childhood." 🔥😎💦