1956
When I was 8
years old, Roxie was my first serious girlfriend. Although she had a nice
indoor/outdoor enclosure off the house, on most summer days she sat at the top
of the driveway, with me, both of us huddled under a huge Forsythia bush, its canopy
a bonfire of yellow flowers. With my arm
draped around my her, I distinctly remember thinking that things couldn’t get
much better than that, sitting there in the shade of my hiding place, with
Roxie, safe under that screaming Forsythia. I knew it was a peak moment. Both of us peeking
out from our cool sanctuary watching heat snakes slither up off the blistering macadam
driveway, reaching for the sky, as if from electrified waters.
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