They rode bikes.
I rode a rented Summer Pony.
They played kickball.
I chased the Ghosts of Stony Clove.
They laid out in the sun to tan.
I pulled Black Beauty from a burning stable.
I didn't always know how to join a conversation with the other kids.
I didn't always know what they were talking about
when they talked about beach balls and bathing suits,
and they didn't always know what I was talking about
when I talked about Ginny and Mokey
or Ginny and Asher
or Ginger and Merrylegs.
Once in a while, I got up off my red blanket
long enough to toss back a stray Frisbee,
shrugging when they asked whether I was bored,
but smiling as they ran back to their game.
I had a secret hidden in the stack of books to my left.
I had all the adventures one summer could hold.
I lived ten summers in a single school break,
and those other kids only got one.