Just Another Summer Day

Note: This week's Remembe(red) writing prompt is a photo(of a garden hose) to take you back in time. In 700 or fewer words, show us where your memory takes you. Remember that this image is merely inspiration. Your piece needn't have a hose in your piece, but we need to easily see how you were inspired by it.

Just as I thought that I would die of thirst, I saw it. Coiled on the patio in the back yard, the hose beckoned, an oasis in the desert.

I ran toward it, my little brother close behind. I got to the faucet first, and turned it on. My brother had picked up the other end of the hose and was about to drink.

"HEY!!!" I was outraged. By the Sacred Virtue of Birth Order, it was decreed that I always got to go first. Plus, like they said on tv, ladies were supposed to go first. I was the oldest(at five), I was a girl, so I went first.

Except that my brother didn't believe that. He believed that since HE was the youngest by two and a half years, the "adorable" baby of the family, he should go first. He also believed that I should just LET him go first, since he was the baby.

I could not allow this violation of All That Was Holy in my worldview to continue, so I did what any older sister would do: I tackled him. I took him out at the knees, and he let go of the hose as we both fell back into the grass. My brother did not take this punishment lightly--he fought back as fiercely as he could. We rolled around on the grass, yelling, the forgotten hose releasing all that cool, delicious water into the ground near us.

"WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING?!! My mother was suddenly hollering at us from the sliding glass door. We froze. "KNOCK IT OFF!!!"

There is nothing more powerful than the Fear of Mom, so of course we hopped right up, covered with grass stains. I ran over to the hose, suddenly thirstier than I had ever been before. I lean over the hose to take a drink.

"AND TURN OFF THAT HOSE!" My mother hollered.

I waited until she wasn't at the door anymore, then quickly took a drink and handed the hose to my brother. Then we ran back to our playing.

Note: This is a melding of every single summer day that my brother and I spent playing together. Yes, we actually did have fights like that, but we never actually ever hurt each other. Except once or twice. Maybe three times.