Oh to be here.
Texas and sun as hot as it ever gets but a cooling spot on the back porch swing.
Air conditioning inside beckoning but not yet. Bad ankles and bad who knows what. Easier to let one’s mind drift somewhere more fun in the heat. Drowsiness making, it is, and a perfect place to spin memories into dreams.
Maid bringing out a glass of sweet tea and a cookie. Turn around the back yard like the doctor says. Better just to sit no matter what they say but half the family on the other side of the windows and likely to say something later. Three walks past the flower beds they want, but the other two easy to stretch the truth about. No one else up at dawn and the dog not going to tell.
But not understanding. No, more fun to think about before. Miles to run and dances at the big hotels on Saturday night. Dancing school before that with boys that stomp on one’s feet but something shining back there behind a wall of frocks with silk sashes with fringe that kissed one’s heels.
Summer at auntie’s in Galveston, it was, the year before the hurricane washed it away. But no one knowing it then . . . .no a little girl, her doll and a new hat for her birthday . . .a cake and ice cream future shining and a wish for the extra candle . . . . not gotten of course what with the beach gone but still . . . not knowing it then and that being all that counts . . .