By J F Ridgley-B.R.A.G. Medallion Honoree
Funny how certain days linger in your memory forever. Stephanie suggested a topic for the indiebrag blog…“Try to recreate a day of reading from your childhood or teen years and write about it,” she asked. And a cherished memory sprang to life the instant I read her prompt.
Freeimages.com Niles N Kristensen
It began on a cloudy, rainy days, all gray, drippy, and cold. My family and I lived on a busy, city street where, on this day, cars, trucks and buses hurried by, spraying large puddles of water onto the sidewalks. Our house was a simple one, barely more than a two bedroom ranch with a front porch, which is where this memory began. On that porch swing.
As a young girl no more than ten, I loved that swing on any day. It swung my dolls to sleep, thrilled me and my friends when we banged it against the house as we laughed together on a hot summer day. But this was spring and raining, not storming. Just a steady downpour flowed from the thick gray clouds, watering spring flowers, turning winter yards to a lush green, and kept everyone inside. Everyone except me.
Wet, damp breezes waifed through the porch as I dragged out at least a million blankets to pile on the wooden swing to challenge the dampness chill to read my favorite book. I clearly remember snuggling deep inside the blankets for the warmth, swaying in the chilling breezes, listening to the extra chain chink against the supporting chains as I escaped again
with Alex and the Black Stallion. We galloped across some warm sandy beach, feeling the tropical sun on our faces, arms wide, feeling free. It was glorious. I don’t think I finished it because I remember waking up from a deep sleep where this fantasy had carried me on this chilling day. Thank you Walter Farley for such a glorious ride that I never forgot and I still smile with the memory.
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