We spent those stifling endless summer afternoons on hot front porches, cutting paper dolls from Sears catalogs, making up our own ideal families complete with large appliances and an all-occasion wardrobe with fold-down paper tabs. Sometimes we left crayons on the cement landing, just to watch them melt. We followed the shade around the house. Time was a jarful of pennies, too hot to spend, stretching long and sticky, a brick of Bonomos Turkish Taffy. Tomorrowd be more of the same, ending with softball or kickball, then hide and seek in the mosquitoey dark. Fireflies, like connect-the-dots or find-the-hidden- words, rose and glowed, winked on and off, their cool fires coded signals of longing and love that we would one day learn to speak. ~ The Fifties by Barbara Crooker via The Writers Almanac
Posted on: Tue, 12 Aug 2014 18:12:32 +0000
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