Mr. H. and I were discussing our early days
this evening while eating dinner. The subject came up about how far back we
could actually remember something concrete. I said, “I remember when I was five
because I started school that year.” Mr. H. said, “I remember age five, too.
Not many details; just that I started school and remember my first grade
teacher’s name.”
That conversation didn’t last long, but my
mind wandered on...
More memorable than starting school was the
special birthday party I had when I was five years old. Seventeen kids
attended.
It was a nice day and the party was
outside. Actually, after a few games, we got a little too warm and my Aunt
Betty urged me to go in the house with her to get a drink of water.
While we were inside, she wandered into my
mother’s bedroom and decided to splash on some of her cologne. Turning to me,
she said, “Here, let’s put some of this on you, too.” There was
just one drawback, which we realized too late. It wasn’t cologne.
It was fingernail polish remover!
Bad scene! We were wearing beautiful
new dresses that were bought for the occasion. They were made of taffeta. Hers was blue and mine was peach. We
often got dresses alike. I guess our mothers thought it was cute since we were
so close to the same age and size.
When Betty saw that her dress was wet, she
started wiping downward on it with both hands. I did the same. Oh my! The
dresses started coming apart - dissolving might be a better word. Betty
began crying. I followed suit. So there we stood, our beautiful new dresses in
shreds, both bawling like babies when my mother came in.
“For
the love of Heaven! What have you two done?” she shrieked.
“We thought it was perfume,” Betty said,
wiping at her tears.
“Are you mad?” I said, a question that was
always uppermost in my mind. It was never a good thing for my mother to be
angry!
Without answering, she said, “Get out of
those stinky dresses; you’ve ruined them! I’ll find you something else to put
on so you can go back to the party.”
After that, the party wasn’t much fun. We
played a few more games, had birthday cake and ice cream and I opened presents.
But the luster was gone. And soon, my friends were, too.
Before they left, my mother took a picture of me with my
party guests. But one thing was missing – the beautiful peach and blue dresses
Betty and I had worn to the party.
Some
memories live forever – no matter how young you were when you made
them.