When was the last time you were worry-free? I know this sounds like an infomercial, but really, can you remember? I asked myself this question on my morning walk, and immediately, an answer popped into my mind. It was the summer I turned 14 and went crabbin’ with my best friend.
We would always wake up early and make Cinnamon Toast. I’m sure you remember Cinnamon Toast before the world made it into the crunch of cereal: white bread, real butter, white sugar, and ground cinnamon. I’ve tried to recreate it hundreds of times, but it never tastes as good as the early summer mornings of going crabbing. On those mornings, it was a lucky tradition. Without it, the crabs wouldn’t bite.
We’d walk down to the dock, which was still wet with dew, and stay there all day long and never get bored. It didn’t matter if we wore sunscreen or the right bathing suit. Things don’t bother you when you’re 14. We were there for one reason only—to catch crabs. Oh, and listen to Z-102 tunes on the radio.
The dock held about ten lines hanging from all the right spots. My friend would have five, and I’d have five. We’d tie the chicken necks to the end and drop them in the water. After a few minutes, we’d hold the line to see if it fluttered. If so, we’d pull up the line slowly, trying desperately not to lose the crab on the way to the surface. Sometimes, if you were really lucky there may be two or three on that one line. And, if you’d been real good all summer, your best friend would scoop those crabs into a net while you held the line steady. My best friend, Mary, was the best scooper ever.
We’d jump in the creek when we got hot, play in the mud, and lie on that dock all day long. I still remember how my hair felt by 8 o’clock that night when we pulled the old bushel basket full of crabs up to the house. Then we covered our ears while her mom dropped them in the water one by one. But the funny thing is that I do not remember eating them; that wasn’t the important part. Being with my friend was.
I wish every child could grow up enjoying a summer like that. We Savannahians are blessed to have those experiences at our fingertips, and my husband and I have tried to recreate them for our children. But, a memory is something that should never be created. Every child must make their own, which will never duplicate ours.
So, for now, I’ll continue worrying about finding that high school Chemistry book, praying that the uniforms will arrive in time for school, and purchasing the last few college dorm supplies. But in my mind, I’ve Gone Crabbin’.
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