How I spent My Summer Vacation

           It seems like an eternity ago, but it was more like ten years. I was in sixth grade, and my teacher, Mrs. Feldman strutted around the classroom wearing her two-tone green knit sweater and a brown corduroy skirt that seemed to be stretched to its seams around her enormous bottom.

           Mrs. Feldman was trying to get the attention of the class, but we were all too pumped with excitement. It was the last day of school before summer vacation, and nobody was interested in schoolwork. Finally, after many long minutes of screaming out her frustrations over the roar of the students, Mrs. Feldman approached the blackboard, reached out her hand, and with a loud shriek, dragged her crimson red nails down the chalk-covered blackboard.

           The class cringed at the noise and fell into silence. Mrs. Feldman, now with everyone’s attention, began to speak as she wrote on the board.

           “Class, I understand that you are all anxious to finish the school year and enjoy your break, but I want to offer you one last assignment. I want you each to write a short story in 1000 to 3000 words on how you spent your summer vacation. When you return in the new school year, I ask that you hand in your assignments to me. I, along with Principal Anderson and a representative from Quill Books, will read the stories and the best story will be submitted in a book of short stories published by Quill Books.”

           Some of the students dreaded the thought of doing homework over the summer, but I became excited at the thought. Even at that age, I dreamed of becoming a writer, and to think that I could have something I wrote end up in a book was crazy to think of.

           I remember getting home that afternoon from school and telling my mom and dad all about the assignment. I had to repeat myself several times, however, because I was speaking so fast that I was incomprehensible. My parents were overjoyed to see me excited about doing homework for once and encouraged me to do my best with the assignment.

           When I asked my mom and dad what plans we had for the summer, they looked at me with a blank look on their faces, then at one another shrugging their shoulders. Finally, my father spoke up and said, “Actually, son, we were just thinking of staying around home this year. Maybe invite over your Uncle Keith and Aunt Becky. You could play with Justin.”

           “Justin is only three-years-old, dad!” I retorted. “What fun would that be? I am ten, or have you forgotten that?”

           “Sorry, you’re right, Charlie. Your mom and I will talk it over. Maybe we can do something else.”

           Nothing else was said about the contest for the rest of that evening. In fact, not much was said at all. There was an eerie silence looming throughout the house that night. I knew that my parents did not have a lot of money. We lived in a small two-bedroom home with not much of a yard, front or back. The car my dad drove was an old rusted-out Volkswagen Rabbit that fired out smoke from the exhaust every time he turned it on. My mom stayed at home and babysat a few children in the neighbourhood while my dad managed a video store. Business at the video store was slowly depleting, however due to the increase in online movie rentals from companies like, Netflix.

           The next morning, at the breakfast table, my mom told me she had some good news. She said that her and my dad had discussed it, and they decided to go on a road trip for the summer. They said that we could visit some friends and relatives along the way and camp out in a tent when there were no places to stay.

           I thought this was a great idea and I gave them both a big hug. I would finally have something more to write about than how long the grass grew in the backyard each week, or how many flies were caught in the bug zapper. I ran to my room and started packing all my clothes into a backpack. My mom came in a few minutes later and told me that I would not be able to bring ALL my clothes on the trip, but she stayed and helped me organize what I would need.

           My dad made some calls to find out who would be home along our journey and planned for our stays. My mom packed some food for the drive, and I began to load the car up. There wasn’t a lot of room in that old Rabbit, but I made it all fit. When my dad came out, he immediately began to laugh. When I asked what he was laughing about, he pointed toward the back seat of the car. I had it stuffed full.

           “Where exactly did you plan on sitting, Charlie?” he asked.

           I had completely forgotten to leave room for myself in the car. With my dad’s help, we were able to fit a few more bags in the trunk, then we climbed in and hit the road. A cloud of smoke from the exhaust was left behind after our sputtering exit.

           The countryside was beautiful and green as we passed through farmlands about thirty minutes from our home. We were getting close to our first stop. It was the home of my mother’s aunt. I had only met her once or twice that I remember. She lived in an old farmhouse on several acres of land. Her son took care of all the chores, so his mother did not have to.

           The farmhouse had white clapboard siding and a wooden swing hanging from the veranda on the front porch. My mother’s aunt, Victoria sat on the swing knitting what appeared to be a sweater. She waved at our approach.

           After treating us to some homemade apple pie, Aunt Victoria walked us out back to where her son, Christopher was tending to the cattle in the barn. It was the first time I had ever seen someone milk a cow, and Christopher offered to teach me how to milk them properly.

           I felt nervous as he placed my hands around the cow’s teats. Christopher told me not to be nervous because the cows can sense it and they will not give milk. I took a deep breath and began to gently pull on the teat the way that he showed me. After a few strokes, milk squirted out into the bucket below the utter. I was so excited to be experience this.

           After I finished milking Bessie, we were given a tour of the grounds. Aunt Victoria was growing potatoes, carrots, beets, cucumbers, and many other vegetables. There were also several fruit trees on the property with large red apples, pears, and peaches. Aunt Victoria pulled a peach down and handed it to me. I took a bite and was instantly covered in the sweet juices that spewed out from the delectable treat.

           We turned in early for bed since Aunt Victoria said they wake up early on the farm. When I arose the next morning, I was titillated by the delicious odor of bacon and eggs coming from the kitchen. I rushed downstairs to see if there was enough for me to eat. The table was already set, and my dad was seated with Christopher at the table while my mom helped her aunt in the kitchen.

           I had three helpings that morning. It was the best I had ever tasted. Aunt Victoria said it was because the eggs were from chickens they had on the farm, and the bacon was from a pig farm up the road.

           We thanked them for their hospitality and were back on the road before noon. Along the way, we stopped at the home of my Uncle Felix. He had me help with an old 1967 Ford Mustang that he was working on. He also tuned up the rabbit while we were there. Uncle Felix was a professional race car driver and had a room full of trophies in his den. Most of which were collecting dust. He gave up racing after one of his close friends was killed in a race right in front of him.

           We also made stops at the home of one of my dad’s old college buddies. I found out that my dad played college football and scored the winning kick in their last season that won them the championship. His buddy still had clippings from the newspaper about the game.

           That night, we decided to pitch a tent at a clearing we found in a nearby conservation area. My dad struggled with assembling the tent, so I jumped in and showed him how. I told him that we learned to put up a tent in Boy Scouts.

           We sat around the fire from dusk until we started to get tired. Mosquitoes were beginning to eat me alive, so I was not complaining about going to bed. We put out the fire and climbed inside the tent and slipped into our sleeping bags. Before I knew it, it was morning.

           We were back on the road again before 8:00 AM. My dad stopped at a donut shop, and we all went in to go pee and order breakfast before restarting our journey. The food wasn’t as good as Aunt Victoria’s, but it hit the spot.

           We stopped at a waterfall that cascaded down the side of a rocky cliff and took some pictures. I could see schools of fish swimming in the water below and wondered if we would have a chance to go swimming at some point as well. My wish was soon granted when we drove up to a public beach on a beautiful lake. There were around twenty other people there as well taking in the hot sun and the cool water.

           We got changed in a public washroom and I immediately ran for the water and dove in. The water was only a few feet deep in the swimming area, but I was a decent swimmer anyway. We spent a few hours there before my dad said we needed to get going. We had one more stop to make before heading back home. It was to my mom’s hometown. My Grandmother still lived there, and I had not seen her in almost five years. I remember that she used to have a lot of cats.

           In the five years since I had seen her, my grandmother had developed dementia and was not able to stay at home alone anymore, so she moved into a retirement home where she could have 24-hour care if needed. The smell in the retirement home was a mix of rubbing alcohol, boiled vegetables, and soiled diapers. I could not understand how people could stay there.

           My grandmother’s room was brightly lit as we walked in. A picture of her cats sat on the dresser next to pictures of my parents and I and some other people I did not know. My mom went up to her and held her hand, and my grandmother asked, “Are you the nurse, dear?”

           “No”, she replied. “I am your daughter, Pam. Do you remember me, mother?”

           “I didn’t know that my daughter was a nurse,” she responded.

           The conversation went on like that for a few more minutes until my grandmother spotted me across the room, partially hidden behind my dad.

           “Charlie is that you?” she asked.

           “Yes, grandma, it’s me, Charlie.”

           “Do your parents know that you are here?”

           “Yes, grandma, they know.”

           “It is so good to see you. You have grown so much!”

           I walked to my grandmother’s side and held onto her frail hand that shook constantly. We talked a little more until she dozed off to sleep. That is when we left. It felt good inside that she remembered me over everything else.

           We began our three-day trip back home, making a few more stops along the way to camp overnight or take in a few photo opportunities. When we finally walked back into our house, I ran back to my room and before I even unpacked, I began to write my story which I titled, “How I Spent My Summer Vacation”. I wrote about all the things I learned from milking a cow to fixing a car engine. I talked about the interesting people I met and the football star that I never knew my dad was. When I finished writing, I had close to 3000 words. I am sure I could have written more, but I had to keep it short for the contest.

           On the first day back at school, I arrived early and ran to Mrs. Feldman’s class. She welcomed me back as I handed in my assignment. She thanked me and told me that the contest will be judged in a few days, and I would hear back after that if I were the winner.

           Three days had passed and no call. I was beginning to doubt the quality of my writing, but on the fourth day, the phone rang while my family sat down for our dinner. It was Mrs. Feldman. She said that she was happy to inform me that my story was chosen over three hundred plus other entries to be published in the book. She also mentioned that in addition to my story being published, I would also be receiving a scholarship prize of $3,000 to be put into a trust fund until I went to college. I was so excited, that I began to scream loudly with joy, forgetting that I still had the phone in my hand. I apologized to Mrs. Feldman and thanked her once…or twice more before hanging up.

           As the years passed by, I continued to follow my dream of becoming a writer. I honed my skills and eventually went to college taking Creative Writing courses and Journalism courses. Now, at the age of twenty, I have published my first novel and I currently work with an international news media conglomerate editing some of the stories that they speak of on air.

           I am not sure where my future might lead, but I know that it all began that summer ten years ago.