On Childhood, Hydrangeas, and Girl Scout Cookies/Day 12

Blogging Along with Effy Wild Day 12
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On Childhood

I am from books I loved as a child that told of tea parties under the gazebo and spoiling thunderstorms that came.

I am from hydrangeas, crowns made of clover, mud pies and their ooey-gooeyness.

I am from playing rock school with my dollies, being five years old with no friends to come over,  switches used to tame my behavior.

I am from shiny mirrors to admire my little-girlness, sashay dresses of voile and dotted swiss,  red velvets and white muffs in the winter.

I am from enjoying a game of in and out the window as the frame of the new church went up, new offering plates, and spiral-like ceiling lights all through the building.

I am from This Little Light of Mine, Bible drills, and Sunday School chairs and tables.

I am from Barbies, midnight blue dresses, and paper dolls, Candy and Her Cousins.

I am from moving to a new town at age 7, the longest hallways at Pulaski Elementary School, a scary teacher, Mrs. Brown, and a loud principal, Mr. Howard.

I am from moments taken from a little girl, hands out of place, deacons gone bad.

I am from dark clouds, a fear of tornadoes, hiding in the southwest corner of my basement.

I am from being seen and not heard, "Don't cry.  Shut that up now," and being in a perfect family that wasn't perfect.

I am from Girl Scout Cookies, standing in the middle of the street and waiting for people to call me to their doors to buy them,  from one woman who bought ten boxes.

I am from breasts forming, Bonne Bell makeup, the whispers of boys in my ears.

I am from folding the little girl dreams and putting them in a suitcase for later years, for the
time I would find them again.