Where are the words? The perfect words describing a first love.
Reflecting on that day, I was entertaining a pure fantasy, a sincere desire to find a loving heart at the ripe old age of four.
Picture this! Sun streaming through our summer vacation cabin windows while dust dances on the light beams hitting the windowsill. Flinging back the covers, I sat up on the edge of the bed wiping the night-time grit from the corners of my eyes. The smell of yesterday's bacon and eggs still permeating the air of the cabin bedroom. I grabbed hold of my musty smelling socks sliding them over my shove-like feet. I slowly put on my shirt, pants, and shoes oh so gingerly, tiptoeing past my very comatose parents sprawled out on the hide-a-bed in the corner of the cabin.
I gently swung open the rickety old cabin door stepping down on to the wobbling porch steps one at a time. My destination was the old ramshackle fishing shack by the water's edge. Then lightning struck, invisible smoke streaming from the cracks in my size four sneakers. The mysterious, universal love bug bit. Now, my tender heart was bleeding love.
I stood gazing at her magnificent beauty, motionless, unable to speak. Gorgeous, red spiral curls spilled over her shoulders while her angelic face glowed a pure, creamy white. The girl of my four year old dreams sat perfectly still on the cracked concrete stoop close to the waters edge. I mustered up all the courage a four year old could muster, deciding to break the awkward silence hanging in the air. Cautiously, I inched closer, first one step then another. I couldn't believe it! Finally, I was standing two feet away from the little red-haired girl resting on the concrete stoop. I swished the stone cold sand back and forth with my sneakers. Hi, What's your name?"
Sheepishly, she looked up at me with a pair of sparkling blue eyes that glimmered in the sunlight. This angel fell from Heaven and landed on my concrete stoop. My eyes gazed at her youthful beauty, my thoughts constantly trained on her. I hung on her every word. A heart captured without a fight looking forward to tomorrow when we would meet again.
Morning came quickly. I bolted out of the cabin door looking toward the cracked concrete stoop. No little red-haired girl! Where was she? Patiently, I waited on the concrete stoop. Seconds turned into minutes, minutes into hours. I peered up and down the beach-no little red haired girl, only a lonely, little beagle puppy lapping up water from the water's edge. I raced through our cabin, out the front door with hopes that she would be playing in the front yard-no little red haired girl.
An old 57 Merc pulled into the driveway of the cabin next door. My heart pounded heavily in my chest. Was it Her? the rusting car door creaked open. A leg poked out hitting the ground with a gravelly crunch-no little red-haired girl! Sadness gripped me like a vice as I ran to the cracked concrete stoop. I plopped down on the stoop. My head resting in my hands, rivers of tears streamed down my pudgy cheeks. The little red-haired girl of my dreams was gone. Memories of her red spiral curls, pure, creamy white face, and a cracked concrete stoop are all that's left-Memories
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