Golden Flower, Golden Hair

It was the best summer as I walked out the front door of our 2 story house. I was 6 and adored the summer. June would come as school was about to finish, the anticipation for freedom would come into my mind, and the restlessness got to be overwhelming. My wait was over and the warm summer day unfolded around me. I could hear the morning birds. It was like they were singing to me. A perfect little breeze came up, just the right amount of coolness to keep one comfortable. What a great day! I felt so alive...I felt so free! This was the way life was supposed to be. Everything was so vibrant. I put my feet upon the new grass of our front yard. Mom had just bought me new Adidas and I was excited to wear them. I always loved getting new sneakers. Ah, the smell of fresh grass. It was invigorating. I walked around the yard and noticed a fat bee. I watched it for a bit and continued out onto the street. Kyle was there, on his old bicycle, chomping on bubble gum as usual. He was my age and one of those kids that liked to crack jokes a lot and some people were annoyed by him. He didn't bother me, I liked him, and he was my friend. Truth was, I was a bit of ham, myself. Kyle and I talked for awhile, he gave me a piece of his Hubba Bubba, and I continued on my way. I was looking forward to seeing what else the day had in store.

There was still that left over sand from the winter sand trucks. I could feel it under my shoes. I liked that feeling, although last spring I wiped out on it with my bike and scraped the skin off my hands as I hit the pavement. Ah, the perils and pleasure of spring. It's a boy's life, I thought to myself and smiled. Onward I go! I came upon Helga, my steady. She was head over heels in love with me. That was okay, it was better than not being liked. She was pretty enough. She was an only child and her parents spoiled her. She was the only kid in the neighbourhood that had a person-sized playhouse. It was downstairs, as she also had her own playroom. She'd put on records, 45's (it was the '70's), and we'd waltz. I liked that. I was too shy to fast dance, but I liked to waltz. It was kind of relaxing and I felt butterflies in my stomach being so close to Helga. There's something very special about being a kid, the new feelings and sensations, and the excitement that would go right into your tummy. The '70's was a cool time, the funky green and orange furniture, the oversized wooden knife, fork and spoon, the great music, it was all...well...groovy!

As I stood and chatted with my girl, she craned her very pale neck (she was a true blonde and very pale skinned) to look at something. Marigolds were growing on the front yard of her place. She went over and picked one. She stood there for a few seconds and then came back. She looked up at me and gave me the sweetest smile you'd ever see. A twinkle came into those big blue eyes as she handed me the flower. I looked down and was pleased to see there was the most beautiful gold colour in that marigold. It glinted in the morning sun. I looked up at Helga and she was still smiling. She said, "I love you." Oh, boy, I thought, this is intense. I'm only 6, I'm just a kid. Wow, this is heavy. There was a part of me, though, that was glad she gave me a flower and said those words. I mean, not every kid has a girlfriend, especially as cool as Helga. I was pretty lucky, I guess. I said, "Thank you," and smiled. She bent up and kissed me on the lips. She tasted like candy. Kissing was sort of fun. It was like a grown up thing to do, so was exciting and different. Helga would always get kind of nervous, jittery, with a look in her eyes. It was a lovelorn look. It was like she really was in love with me, at least as much as a 6 year old can be. Heck, maybe love is love. It was pretty awesome.

We decided to hang out. She asked her mom if she could and she said yes, but we must eat first. Her mom made us Kraft sliced cheese sandwiches with mustard on white bread. We loved them. I liked her mom, Carol. She always made us those eats and she was nice to me. It was obvious that she just wanted her daughter to be happy. That was good to see. We ate our sandwiches, said goodbye to Carol, and then went on our way.

We walked down our beloved street, excited for the warm, beautiful day. When you're a kid, everything is new and exciting. You're filled with curiosity. You long for adventure. We stopped at the jungle jim, the small wooden structure at the end of our street, in a patch of woods. Sitting on the top, Helga began to tell me of her dreams. She told me that someday we'd get married. I listened intently, but knew somehow that she and I would not be fated for this future she had in mind. I'm not sure how I knew. I think I was a sensitive kid. I told Helga that maybe we would get married someday. It made me a bit nervous to think of such things. Little girls are different than little boys, I guess. I looked down at the Marigold, at the amazing golden hue, and was filled with joy. To be a kid was wonderful. I put the golden flower in her golden hair. A single tear ran down her face as the early summer sun caught her magnificent blue eyes, and time stood still for a little boy of the sensational '70's.