To Keep You

To Be A Child Is To Be A Flower

Sixteen years ago, age seven....

It was one of those summer days when life itself seemed to be slower than a turtle and besides the occasional bunny eating the bright orange carrots in Auntie Joe's gardens there was no activity on the early evening June day. I stared out the living room window with boredom laced in my eyes while my head rested upon my folded arms as they laid upon the window seal.

The only sounds that could be heard were the occasional 'chop' or 'bang', which echoed from the small kitchen as Auntie Joe prepared fried chicken and, to my dismay, green beans. I couldn't wait to grow up because when I do, ain't nobody gonna' tell me to eat any food that's green. Besides fried green tomatoes, they're the only exception.

I sighed and giggled as my breath fogged up the window. Using the sleeve of my blue and white striped shirt, I wiped the dampness off the glass. Pushing my thick rimmed glasses further up my nose, I sighed once more for I had only been home from school for an hour and already Auntie Joe had given me the ultimatum of either going outside to play or to read a book. Of course, I loved doing both of those things, but I didn't want to play outside because this was the bunnies time to have the yard, and I didn't want to scare them away. As for reading a book, I'd read everything Auntie Joe had in the house, from the women's magazines hidden underneath her bed, they were weird though, two whole pages were dedicated to some strange things like how when a woman sees a man it's normal to feel butterflies in your belly. But how could it be normal to have butterflies in your belly? Does that mean a boy puts them there? Or do you have to eat them like you would a peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwich? That thought makes me shudder, for I love butterflies, but I don't want them in my belly.

When I grew bored of reading those strange magazines, I moved onto the cookbooks Auntie Joe had stuffed in the oven when we weren't using it. From the few books I read, I now knew how to make a red velvet cake and even something called a seaweed salad. That was strange, too. Who would want to eat seaweed? Besides fish of course, minus sharks though, Arnold said they only like to eat fish and blood. They really like blood. I shudder at that, too.

"Ustacould sit by a window and daydream all day like you." As soft as fresh honey, Auntie Joe's southern voice gilds over my ears and, in return, makes me jump up from my spot to quickly run and give her a tight hug. I know I just saw her a little bit ago, but in that short time, I missed the feel of her warm hugs. She doesn't seem to mind as she laughs and hugs me back tightly.

"Honey drops, I've been calling for ya' for some time now. Dinner is ready and has been for a solid five minutes." She huffs out but I know better, Auntie Joe never gets mad at me unless I bring Arnold home, then her cheeks get redder than a cherry tomato and her anger raises higher than a tornado in Kentucky.

A playful smile dances along the lines of my lips, and a mischievous shimmer takes hold of my eyes as I slowly back away from her and her soon to be swatting hands. "Sorry, Auntie Joe, but it just seems the world disappears when I think about Arnold." 

I squeal in shock as her hand snakes around my body and swiftly smacks my behind as it were a fly on the wall, "You better not be daydreaming about that troublesome boy, ya' hear? That boy is just another job that don't pay." Her finger points at me while she speaks, and I simply glare as I rub the sting from my behind. Auntie Joe may be a small, framed woman, but she sure can swat like an angry bear when needed be.