The Buttercup that sprouts in early summer reminds me over and over again of one event in particular.
The hill next door looms large and beacons us to come play. Our shorts are freshly ironed sear sucker stripe. Shirts, sleeveless and button down the back, skim our midriff. Freshly tied bows of powder blue and yellow, hide the rubber bands that hold our mini pony tails over our corn silk, shoulder length hair. One band aid, banners the ill fated knee. Lastly, ruffled socks neatly fold in half just above the edge of our red Keds.
We live on the second floor of a Arts and Crafts Four Square home converted into a two family.
So we bound down the stairs, careful not to run our hand two quickly down the banister, for we have felt splinters impale our palms and fingers all too often. As we reach the bottom landing we glance quickly to note whether or not the hook and eye has been left unlocked so we can keep the pace and freely push the swinging door wide open to let us out to the porch. Never missing a step we hit the concrete walk and make a sharp right to the grass and fly free out beyond our property line to the HILL. It is bathed in full sunlight except for the area close to the granite rock foundation! We rest leaning against the cool rocks just for a moment to catch our breath. Lungs renewed, we begin our race! Rolling and rolling, faster and faster, full body down that hill. Over and over we roll down that hill until, at last we stop. We stop in unison to pick the one lone Buttercup, that begins a whole new game!
Do you remember the silly games that are forever held sacred in your childhood mind? Have you returned to your childhood play spaces only to find those HILLS not much bigger than inclines!!!!! How fabulous is it to remember those times only in your mind, where the hills are bigger, the grass is greener and the Buttercups ever more magical !Pin It Now!