Essay about Summer Is The Best Season Of The Year

Summer is always the best season of the year. Full of kids of all ages, my neighborhood is a playground paradise. We fill our days with bike riding, hopscotch, red rover, swings, and sandboxes from early morning ‘til dark. However, the time spent with Christine is the best; we are inseparable. She lives at the other end of our block and across the street in a little white house and is part of the neighborhood antics but our favorite pastime is cutting out paper dolls. We think we are very grown up six-year-olds and love walking the three blocks to my Great Uncle Lyle’s stationary store where we drool over the variety of paper doll sets. At times he lets me pick out a set out but I remember one day he doesn’t and being very full of myself, we select what we want, march to the counter, and tell the clerks, my almost aunties, to charge it to my mother. Christine and I race home to get our scissors only to find my mother waiting at the door. With long faces we make the return walk in the sweltering heat, returning empty handed where we spend the rest of the day creating dolls out of corn husks and silk. Other days we play with the enormous dollhouse at my grandparents and one afternoon grandpa let us paint it. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we are doing, the most important thing is that we are together. The summer before the start of Fourth Grade, Christine moves to California with her family. My devastated soul mourns for years and I lose myself in books.…