Most everyone I know experiences a recollection of their childhood when they catch a scent, a sound or vision in their daily lives. It could be the smell of apple pie or a BBQ. For others, it could be seeing a certain flower or hearing a particular song. For me, one of those visions is the Weeping Willow tree. Yesterday, somewhat melancholy, but I am grateful, as I was sitting on my deck looking out at our Weeping Willow in the backyard. That tree reminds me of where I grew up, on Durness Drive in Glasgow Village. Glasgow Village holds a tremendous amount of nostalgia from kickball to the "Oooga Man" to summer nights filled with adventure. Peering out to our tree reminded me of Charlotte Dugan. (I think that was her name) Do any of you remember her? If my memory is clear, Charlotte was sort of this earthy 1960's presence, one who may have tanned alot and had a full head of this dark, curly hair. She seemed to be long and lean, but I was pretty short back then, and most everyone appeared tall to me......and that hasn't changed much. I was very young, but she lived at the corner of Durness/Dornoch, and she was the free-spirited divorced woman who payed so much attention to the kids in the neighborhood. For some reason, I remember a Weeping Willow in the front or backyard of her house, and seeing the one in my backyard brings back all those summers of the man who would sell slushes from the truck whom we called the "Oooga Man" because you knew when he was coming because his horn sounded like "Ahooooooooooga"! Playing kickball on our street and loving it when you hit the ball over the big kids' heads, which was such a thrill. Those sweaty nights of running around and playing in Miller's Field where we flew kites and played softball. Well, I was sort of too young, so I remember watching more than playing.
Summer always reminds me of Chrissy because I envision her in this red two-piece swimsuit with her tanned skin at the age of four or five. That girl would tan at the drop of a pin......I swear there was some Italian or African American blood in her. Once the summer bell would ring, shoes were nowhere to be found as she walked barefoot around town. Mom probably gave her too much leeway with her travels around the neighborhood, but then again, those were different times, weren't they? Her hair would quickly turn blond after a few swims......and we would play whirlpool or stormy night in our backyard tin pool. It seems so long ago, but those memories are unforgettable.
So as this spring turns to summer; I can't help but think of those childhood memories, and I miss them with all my heart. Wanting to see her and touch her face; knowing that she's here and we're laughing. As I have learned so hesitantly; I see her through Maria's smile and mannerisms and in Frankie's laughter. Through my senses, including my sixth sense I will see her and feel her. I thank God for the Weeping Willow tree and all those summer memories, even through my heartache of missing her.
"Life is like an icecream cone: Just when you think you've got it licked, it drips all over you!"
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