Flash in the Pan
A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights
by Mary Purdy
I remember Sesame Street: numbers, words floating across the screen, friendly furry monsters and being messy was ok. I remember screeching with delight, goose pimples raised with excitement, when the black and white plastic rocking pony appeared one Holiday, hailing me with marbled eyes. I remember squeezing in between my parents and their tray of coffee and steamed milk on Saturday mornings, retelling dreams of the past night to which they patiently listened. I remember my dad gliding into my room weekly as my "fairy godmother," his head and body draped in a big white silky comforter, a high pitched voice asking me what I wished for. I remember doughy chicken and peppers and onions battered in soy sauce over rice--my favorite meal every Wednesday night. I remember cutting out different outfits for paper dolls, watching them transform from girl with bloomers and camisole to princess, horseback rider, soldier. I remember coloring in shapes from my women in history coloring book. Amelia Earhart wasn't as pretty as I hoped and I painted her jacket red. I remember Monopoly with my brother for hours one Christmas Eve, hoping that the top hat might make the night go more quickly. I remember treasure hunts on my birthday, discovering the small bundle of gifts in the laundry basket, the dryer, the bath tub, under the bed. I remember dancing into the kitchen begging my mom to feed me spaghetti noodles , dangling them from her hands--a bird feeding worms to its birdling, my head thrust back, mouth open awaiting starchy sensation. The wonder, the fun, the absence of bills, banking and bookkeeping. This I remember, and the tomorrows keep coming.
Mary Purdy is a writer who has mostly performed her material, both in the form of solo theatrical pieces (fictional and biographical) and as read aloud personal essays at literary evenings and story telling events. She also maintains a writing blog at www.PurdyWoman.blogspot.com
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