Middle June and who cares about a ceremony where the teacher puts a crown of flowers on your head and hands you a piece of paper called a diploma, in a boring event where you sit in the sun for hours to wait your turn, and your parents can’t even make it because they are at work, when just an hour away there is a place that has freedom written all over it. Three months of no shoes, no homework, no cares. Screw the city life, the hot pavements, playing with dolls, the TV set, super tempting when homework was in sight, ignorable when the purest and wildest of nature just waited to be conquered.

Barefoot on the lawn with shooting stars, as the song goes, those were my summers. Who needed a dress, sandals and a comb when shorts, t-shirt and messy hair were just perfect to stick your feet in the filthiest of waters in search for blackberries? Coming home stung by bees, mosquitos, bitten by ants, irritated to despair by caterpillars but still not bitten by any rat or snake or spider. Eating apples directly from the trees, all the possible berries without washing them, sharing a sandwich and tomato with your friend because both of you were hungry but none of you wanted to go home yet since it was such a great evening for fishing… then one of our parents came and we were literally dragged home just to be back on the spot the second morning. Biking through puddles, on dirt roads, up the hill, down the hill with no breaks, on river rocks, in the river, riding horse-pulled carts on an unstable piece of wood, learning how to drive one, suffering when the neighbour’s horse died, getting out of cornfields all cut by the rough sharp leaves but gloriously holding the perfect pumpkin to built a lantern, learning all poisonous plants so you know what to stay away from, splashing in the river, ending up in the middle of the cow herd and what else? I wonder how I got out of these things without any serious injury and out of some of them alive. Each of the kids had a special “seat” in the walnut tree. That’s where we were when one could hear our voices and laughter but not see us. Playing word games.

Visits to museums or European capitals on holiday? Exotic trips on beaches with white sand? Didn’t know, didn’t care, didn’t afford one either. I knew how to build my own fishing line, fix my own bike and read the signs nature would send well enough to keep myself away of any thunderstorm. It’s like when you’re out on the sea and you have to know what it means if the wind changes direction and what you have to do. Only that I was on a river bank and I knew that I have 10 minutes to get home or else I will get caught in the rain. And I knew the turkey chicks needed me as well, to get them to shelter, simply because they’re the dumbest birds ever and just sit out in the rain and get wet.

It’s not fun biking into a bees swarm but I’ve done that too. But the best part was swinging in the evening while listening to the radio. The song would go “And I would fly you to the Moon and back…” and I would go back and forth in a swing for hours in a row. Until the BBC news programme would be broadcast on the radio at 9 in the evening and would ruin my swinging to music routines. It must have been a sign showing my future: music, fun, yes, but news, listen to the news too!!! Back then it was just the most annoying part of the evening. But every now and then I was allowed to sit out and swing even after the news bulletin was over. And a few hours later my mom would have to come and get me into the house. Or I would have swung all night long, in the swing my grandpa built under the grapevine. Barefoot. Careless. Free. Those days will live with me forever and left an important mark on who I am today. Home made bread anyone? Grandma’s recipe… It’s in my cupboard, will have some for dinner tonight.