One of the best things about being a kid was getting excited over the small things. And, being born in a Third World country, the small things were really small.
As a grown-up, even the relatively big occasions don't excite me as much. My first trip to Europe or my first car gave me a tiny dose of excitement compared to the thrills of childhood.
Summer was certainly the time when all the small charms came together to make up a mega bundle of elation.
The most obvious sign of summer knocking on the door of spring was the melting of the pile of snow on our narrow dead-end street. As a kid, I had a hard time visualizing how the 10-foot-high mini-hill would melt. But it always melted, and it always happened gradually.
Every day, inch by inch, the little snow mountain would contract a little more in the crisp spring air; it was replaced by flat ice and, later, water. Finally, I was able to see the asphalt, which was the site of many soccer matches.
Meanwhile, during class at our local private Armenian school, my attention was divided between the instructor and the change of scenery outside. Turning my head around 180 degrees to view the trees from our classroom window, I had trouble imagining how the seasons could go from fall's orange, to the bare trees carrying the loads of snow, to spring's fully green branches. I did not think the unstable spring could ever beat the cruel and decisive winter. But just like the snow hill, every year, the transformation did come. And with it, brought the promise of a free spirited summer.
Once classes were out, then came my favorite two phenomena. They signaled the definitive arrival of summer.
