The best day ever isn’t the first day of summer vacation, though that is a good one. Nor is it Christmas, even though that day ranks pretty close to the top of the list. The best day, the very best day is the day you can come home from school, and Ethel finally says yes. “Go ‘head take yo’ dress an’ shoes off, -hang it up- put on de shorts an’ top, den git on outside an’ play wit’ yo barefooted self.
Skipping through the silky grass with the wind on my bare legs and my toes squishing in the winter gentled dirt is the freest feeling in the world after a long winter constrained in socks, shoes, boots, and dresses. The ground not quite warm is so springy it must be the reason they named the season that. Everything I do, the day Ethel says yes, is more fun. Running is easier, swinging is breezier. Gordy, Helen and I leap around like baby cows, galloping free from the confines of all of that winter stuff. It is the best. Just lying in that soft grass looking up at the crystal blue sky and giggling is better on the first day Ethel says yes.
If Ethel would say yes, I wouldn’t even bother with the shorts and shirt. If she said yes to that, the day I’d go barefoot for the first time each year would be even better, if that’s possible.