Sometime Last Summer

      I'm not sure of the day exactly, but I think I remember it being hot and sticky.  A usual Midwestern summer day, where the trees drip with heat and the asphalt shimmers.  We had found shelter in the large cool house, the one with black shutters and glowing candles at Christmas time. The memory has faded but the feeling is still.  The light was at it's golden hour and we were running around laughing, giggling, screaming may have been involved.  For some currently unknown reason I decided then was a good time to lock myself in the upstairs bathroom and proceed to escape the bathroom someway other than the door.  Keyword in this sentence: UPSTAIRS batroom.
       The only way out of this bathroom that is not the door is the small window, and outside this window is nothing more than two small, scraggly pine trees with barely enough substance in their trunks for a family of squirrels.  So I have no idea what I was thinking when I tried my luck at opening the window and removing the screen.  For some reason the screen does not seem to be built to be removed, so it did not fit back into the house through the window.
      Now, I'm nearly positive it was an accident, but a little tiny part of me, probably the small devil on my shoulder is squeaking in my ear, "Lydia, are you sure?"  Either way, the screen ended up on the ground below the window, or it might even be stuck in the small pitiful pine tree, but it is stuck there, not in the window, not being of any use, and the only thing either of us can remember is how terribly funny it was.