They were old, but that never seemed to matter. By the end of the blazing summer, my sister and I were always ready to go back to school. We grew weary of the long, hot days and only having each other for company. The last weeks of August were always some of the happiest weeks of the summer. The end of summer and the early parts of September always meant a new beginning.

Around this time the grape vines grew heavier, the bulging sugar orbs seemed never to end. Careful to avoid the inevitable wasp’s nest, my sister and I would harvest as many as would fit in our small hands and mouths. By stuffing the grapes into our cheeks we became chipmunks, by posing with them we became greek goddesses. Having always been reminded that sharing had its benefits, we were always eager to feed these not-as-ripe-as-we-pretended-they-were grapes to everyone we could.
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