Forever young

A fter a particularly insane work week where I had left entirely too much for the last minute, I found myself in something of a trance, driving down Woodlawn Boulevard. I puttered along, staring at the houses.I passed a spanish home with a red terra cotta roof, reminiscent of The Cloister in Sea Island. One look at that red roof and I was ten years old, ponytail flying as I zipped along that familiar bike path down Sea Island Drive. I could smell the marsh, feel that sticky humidity, hear the Gregorian chant of the frogs and see the sudden whoosh of movement in the fallen red pine as a salamander scampered out of harm's way.

Just as quickly as I'd left, I was back. Back to reality. Back to bills, an empty tank of gas and a house to clean. But for a minute, I was on vacation.

We all have those Proustian triggers that transport us to a better place and time. It's these things that inspired this month's feature on summer memories. It's those memories that offer sanity during stressful times.

I've been trying to identify more of those vacation triggers since I am land-locked for now. I've rounded up some favorite escapes. For all those craving vacation, here's my short list of economical get-aways.

The sound of heaven

Never before has such an awful noise rendered anything so awesome. Once our hand-cranked ice cream maker died, we invested in an effective—albeit loud—electric version. I would rob the ice maker of its cubes and pour them into that wooden barrel with cartons of rock salt while my mom whipped up the ice cream. In our family, peach ruled. To date, I have never eaten anything better than my mom's peach ice cream. Once she had peeled the peaches and added the other ingredients, we'd pour it into the metal vessel and let the groan begin. That horrible churn scared children and dogs away from the back of the house. Well, at least 'til it came tasting time.

A whiff of vanilla

I don't think my mother has ever opened a bottle of vanilla without pausing to smell it. When I was young, she always let us take a whiff before adding it to the cookie dough. It may be a short-lived vacation, but my childhood kitchen ain't too bad a place to travel.

A drive down memory lane

This one needs some explaining. It's not easy to make traffic fun. Somehow, my father did. He worked downtown at Commerce Union Bank and took me with him to work as a treat. After an adventure-filled day, my father and I would head home, playing a game to see if we could make it there without stopping the car. We slowly eeked up to each light as I prayed feverishly for green. Somehow, we always made it home without the wheels ever stopping their slow roll. During our recent gas scare, I found myself doing the same thing and realized my dad was an environmentalist ahead of his time. And, for once, I didn't mind the traffic.

A sugar rush

What the hell happened to gum? Gum was designed to ensure the success of dentists. It's not supposed to be recommended by dentists. Bring back the Razzles, Chiclets, Fruit Stripe and Bazooka. I want to relive my childhood by seeing how many pieces I can shove in my mouth at once. Be gone Extra and Trident. I want sugar. FYI—my dentist loves me.

The crush of the driveway

What could possibly signal summer more than the sound of the station wagon's wheels crushing those white shells that line the driveways of beach homes? Those shells, that I hated as a child because they hurt your feet to walk on barefoot, guaranteed that you had sand in your swimsuit, a dusty car and crab baskets in the back seat. I miss those shells.

All those childhood escapes are readily available to adults. But too often we forget to take advantage of them. Sit in the dark during a hot summer storm and watch the horizontal lightning flash across the sky. Roll down a hill. Jump off the high dive. Do a cartwheel when you spot a nice, green stretch of lawn (only if you're not wearing a skirt). Sure, we may jiggle more and our bones may be creaky—but honestly, if you feel young and act young, you are young. And anything is possible when you are young.