Friday, March 31, 2006

Gorgeous Out

For some reason, my memories of things come on strong at the beginning of spring. Maybe the nice weather wakes up my brain. Maybe it's the smells of outdoors that bring to mind days past. Who knows? I wrote these fast and I am posting them before I get all in my head about them.

1.

We were talking about nothing and you stopped, took in a breath and put your hands on the top of a warm stone wall. You pulled yourself up and sat down, your legs hanging, and one of your sandals fell off.

Then you said, "I wonder where my dad is."

I looked at you, you held a piece of your long brown hair and dragged it across your upper lip.
I said nothing. Just waited to see what else you would say, which is what I always did when you got like this.

"My aunt told me once that he was famous, but I think she was just trying to cheer me up or something. My mom never says anything, except for that one time, she just changes the subject when I ask her about him. I'm gonna go to a private investigator someday. Maybe I'll be a private investigator someday and go find him myself."

I was sitting on the grass, pulling the zipper on my knapsack just an inch one way closed and then open again. It was so warm out, with a little wind and the sound far away of cars coming up the hill.

You finally looked down at me.

I smiled.

2.

We had read Cue For Treason. We had learned about mythology (with poor Icarus and his wings melting). Mrs. Wilkins was a great, strict, interesting English teacher with a semi cruel smile and thick glasses. Now we were doing Merchant of Venice and discussing Portia and her mercy speech. Which didn't have much of an impact to me at almost fifteen, because I was busy daydreaming about Victor Keca (two years older, tall, Croatian, hunky, mostly unaware of my existence) bringing me a fancy doughnut from Tim Hortons for my birthday. How handsome he would be in his red adidas jacket, walking over from the boys school with my treat!

It was that first windy warm spring day, and Mrs. Wilkins told the girls sitting nearest the windows to open them all up! It was exciting, for hers was a class of little pizazz. We all buzzed and beamed while the windows were opened, a long line of them along one side of the basement classroom.

At once the wind rushed in and blew all the papers off our desks!

We sat, semi terrified, and waited to see what Mrs. Wilkins would do. I am sure some of us thought she would give the wind a detention or at least a wicked scolding.

She smiled. And (I think, not totally sure of this because remember I had VK on the brain) I think, she may have let out a little whoop.

And we scrambled around, a class of girls in dark kilts and white blouses, picking up papers and handing them back to people, all the while laughing and enjoying this break in routine.

9 Comments:

At 4:22 PM, Blogger lawbrat said...

Very nice stories Amy. The first one tugged at my heart. God Bless Spring!

Hey, did you get something I mailed to you?

 
At 5:29 PM, Blogger Sharkey said...

Those are great stories--very well-written. Mrs. Wilkins would be proud.

And hallelujah--spring is HERE!!

 
At 9:50 PM, Blogger Circus Kelli said...

Amy, I love these stories. Reading them made me feel like you were telling them straight to me.

Love you!

 
At 1:30 AM, Blogger eclectic said...

I hope this means that everyone's on the mend at your house. Nice work on these vignettes!

 
At 9:53 AM, Blogger Vajana said...

that was nice for a spring day!

My memory of those type always 'spring' up now too!

Why I felt to use that pun is unknown to me.

 
At 10:02 AM, Blogger LadyBug said...

What nice memories. Love and hugs to you, dear.

 
At 10:53 AM, Blogger kalki said...

Loved these. Very well done.

 
At 1:57 PM, Blogger speckledpup said...

i like that you don't edit.
I like the way your mind works...
enjoy the spring kiddo.
The Pup

 
At 1:11 PM, Blogger Torie said...

I love it when I get a flash of a memory. It is important to write them down - you never know if the memory will be that clear again.

 

Post a Comment

<< Home