Literary Mama writing about the many faces of motherhood
Literary Mama Rewind: Summer

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Welcome to Literary Mama Rewind! Every few weeks we'll round up some of our favorite essays, stories, poems, columns, and reviews from the Literary Mama archives relating to a particular theme. Summer is here! That means summer camp, swimsuits, beaches and iced tea.  This week we have stories that shine the light on motherhood during summertime.

It is a summer of broken things. Lightning hits our house and zaps two phones, an answering machine, and a computer hard drive. Thieves throw a brick through the truck window and steal my briefcase. My father falls on a steep gravel driveway and fractures his ankle in three places.

It is July, a year and a half since we buried Mom, and I've taken eight-month-old Sebastian on his first trip to Scituate. As much as one can infuse an eight month old, I want to infuse him with Scituate and with Mom. I want to feel summer, sand, and especially, her.

For an evening we loosen our grip
on the girls, their bodies too sweaty
to hold.

The thing about summer is,
summer is restless.
Trees hang around
waiting for something to happen.

Her iced tea was already sweaty with condensation, proof that the summer of 1974 promised to be unusually hot. Northerners up here preferred their tea unsweetened, but Ilona took after her mother and added both honey and mint.

Nothing strikes terror into a woman's heart more than the sight of a small curtained room filled with bits of spandex dripping from plastic hangers. Multiply that by four females in one family, ages 12 to 83, and you're in Sandwich Generation Hell.

  • Hello Muddah by Ona Gritz from the Column Doing it Differently

Ethan was leaving for two weeks of summer camp and the way I saw it, it would be relatively easy for us. As a family of divorce, we're often apart on weekends.

Each year when the month of June draws close, I murmur, prayer-like: "Thank GOD the school year is almost over!" I've done this since the first year we adopted our oldest child.

Amanda Jaros is a freelance writer living in Ithaca, NY. Her essay “Blood Mountain” won the 2017 Notes From the Field contest at Flyway Journal. Other work has appeared in numerous journals and magazines including, NewfoundLife in the Finger Lakes Magazine, Highlights for Children, and Cargo Literary. She holds an MFA in creative nonfiction from Chatham University.

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