Sun & Youth
This is my favorite time of the year, the winter is behind us and summer is almost here. That dead period between Christmas and easter has past and the rest of the year stretches out before us holding so much promise. Call me an optimist but the run up to summer always gives me the feeling that this year something good will happen. Usually it never does, but every now and again it will and that is why I remain an optimist.
As a boy growing up in Manchester it seemed to me that even the dark back to back terraced houses grimy with the soot of industry couldn't escape the effect of sunlight, I would sit on the pavement outside my house, my back against the wall and feel the warmth from the bricks burning my back through the fair isle jumper that according to my Mother I never wanted to take off.
Through half closed eyes I would watch the shimmering heat rise up from the road and try to guess which pool of tar would be the first to melt and form black bubbles that would get bigger and then pop. I liked to lay face down on the pavement letting my body absorb the heat from the ground. With my eyes that close to the stone slabs, I could see streaks of gold in the sandstone and tiny creatures crawling around busy with who knows what. Years later I would find myself in another country half way across the world, lay full length with my face pressed close to the ground under a much hotter sun but in less happier circumstances and be reminded of these sweltering days outside my house.
I was ten years old when the family moved to a better house in a nicer area, indoor toilet and a bath, hot and cold running water, a bedroom of my own. But best of all a garden, not that I like gardening, I don't, I just like gardens.
That same year I spent the summer with relatives half way up the Pennine mountains, it was a glorious time made more glorious by the presence of Catherine, a girl who lived at the other end of the village, who always seemed to be running errands for people. I would sit on the wall outside the village pub and watch her going to and from the shop. When she walked she danced and skipped and if she wasn't smiling happily she would be singing. As she danced her long blonde hair would flick and bob, sometimes the wind would catch it and blow it around her head and shoulders, but so fine was it that it would fall back perfectly as though it had just been brushed.
Each day I promised myself that I would talk to her, but I didn't want to make a fool of myself and risk not being able to watch her skip through summer, so I said nothing, I just sat on my wall and marveled at her sweetness. Now and again when she passed by she would look across at me and smile. Just the faintest of smiles almost mocking me, but I treasured each one and every night as I lay in bed I would re-run them in my head like an old movie.
One day I decided to explore beyond the village and after a short walk found myself in a large sloping field with thigh high grass and wild flowers. It was early afternoon and the sun was beating down. I lay on my back, hands behind my head in front of a dry stone wall, and did what I do best, day dream. As insects buzzed in the hot summer air I looked up at a clear blue sky and imagined Catherine beside me smiling.
I dozed off and woke a little time later to someone shaking my shoulder, I could feel something brushing against my face, it was soft blonde hair, as my eyes focused I realized it was Catherine who was shaking me awake. "Wake up, Wake up, you will get sunburned" I sat up rubbing my eyes not so much from being asleep but because there she was inches from me, touching me, talking to me. When I had gained my composure I spluttered my thanks and asked her how she had found me.
"I didn't find you, I followed you" she said smiling. I was confused, "but I've been here for hours" I said. "I know, I was just watching you, like you have been watching me"
I was embarrassed and turned as red as I would have had I been burnt by the sun. I struggled to get out of this but came up with nothing. "Don't worry" she said "Your just a boy, thats what boys do" I avoided her eyes feeling guilty. She laughed "Don't be shy, I like you looking at me, you think I'm pretty don't you?" I mumbled that I thought she was beautiful. "Ok then, you can hold my hand" she said, she took hold of my hand as she lay down beside me and locked her fingers in mine.
We lay there in the hot summer sun for hours talking and laughing, I remember how perfect she looked, how when she came close to me I could smell strawberries, I recall how her white summer dress showed off her young budding figure and how she bit her bottom lip when she was thoughtful. I remember the shock when she asked me if I wanted to kiss her, and the relief when she didn't wait for an answer and put her lips on mine. I felt the power that youth has surge through me for as long as the kiss lasted, it seemed like hours but it could only have been seconds.
Most of all I remember how proud I felt that this girl was my friend. She became my friend and stayed my friend throughout that summer, and every warm day we spent in that field, or roaming others, when it rained we walked higher into the hills to watch nature protest and as we watched we made plans for our future that of course never came to be.
Inevitably summer turned to autumn and as the first leaves fell I returned to our new house and my new school. We kept in touch for years after, as time went by the letters became more infrequent and finally stopped altogether when she went to university. I'm glad that I never went back to see her, I think it would have been a disappointment, and the ruin of a wonderful memory.
Some years later I found myself at a dinner dance in a posh hotel in Manchester, the dinner having been eaten I made my way to the bar for a G & T. I was on my second drink when I noticed a very attractive woman in evening dress talking to a man who seemed a little annoyed. He looked across at me several times before downing his drink and leaving. When I looked at the woman again she smiled and raised her glass to me, I looked away decided to finish my drink and go.
Before I could do so the woman had walked over to me and as I turned to leave she said "You have been watching me haven't you" I said that I most certainly hadn't, sure that there was going to be trouble. She threw her head back and laughed, "Don't worry, thats what boys do" I was puzzled, she laughed again "You haven't got a clue who I am have you David" I apologized, "I'm sorry no I haven't" She smiled knowingly and for an instant I thought I did recognize her, "Its Catherine, have I changed that much" and there she was again, more beautiful than I remembered and chiding me again for staring at her.
We spent the rest of the evening dancing and talking over times gone by, and for a short time I felt like that boy again so many years before in a sloping field bedazzled by a perfect girl who smelled of strawberries. But just as that summer ended, so did the evening. As the guests spilled out of the hotel we walked slowly to her car.
I thanked her for a wonderful evening and suggested we do it again sometime, she bit her bottom lip and looked thoughtful, smiling she said "I don't think that would be a good idea" then she kissed me and was gone.
As a boy growing up in Manchester it seemed to me that even the dark back to back terraced houses grimy with the soot of industry couldn't escape the effect of sunlight, I would sit on the pavement outside my house, my back against the wall and feel the warmth from the bricks burning my back through the fair isle jumper that according to my Mother I never wanted to take off.
Through half closed eyes I would watch the shimmering heat rise up from the road and try to guess which pool of tar would be the first to melt and form black bubbles that would get bigger and then pop. I liked to lay face down on the pavement letting my body absorb the heat from the ground. With my eyes that close to the stone slabs, I could see streaks of gold in the sandstone and tiny creatures crawling around busy with who knows what. Years later I would find myself in another country half way across the world, lay full length with my face pressed close to the ground under a much hotter sun but in less happier circumstances and be reminded of these sweltering days outside my house.
I was ten years old when the family moved to a better house in a nicer area, indoor toilet and a bath, hot and cold running water, a bedroom of my own. But best of all a garden, not that I like gardening, I don't, I just like gardens.
That same year I spent the summer with relatives half way up the Pennine mountains, it was a glorious time made more glorious by the presence of Catherine, a girl who lived at the other end of the village, who always seemed to be running errands for people. I would sit on the wall outside the village pub and watch her going to and from the shop. When she walked she danced and skipped and if she wasn't smiling happily she would be singing. As she danced her long blonde hair would flick and bob, sometimes the wind would catch it and blow it around her head and shoulders, but so fine was it that it would fall back perfectly as though it had just been brushed.
Each day I promised myself that I would talk to her, but I didn't want to make a fool of myself and risk not being able to watch her skip through summer, so I said nothing, I just sat on my wall and marveled at her sweetness. Now and again when she passed by she would look across at me and smile. Just the faintest of smiles almost mocking me, but I treasured each one and every night as I lay in bed I would re-run them in my head like an old movie.
One day I decided to explore beyond the village and after a short walk found myself in a large sloping field with thigh high grass and wild flowers. It was early afternoon and the sun was beating down. I lay on my back, hands behind my head in front of a dry stone wall, and did what I do best, day dream. As insects buzzed in the hot summer air I looked up at a clear blue sky and imagined Catherine beside me smiling.
I dozed off and woke a little time later to someone shaking my shoulder, I could feel something brushing against my face, it was soft blonde hair, as my eyes focused I realized it was Catherine who was shaking me awake. "Wake up, Wake up, you will get sunburned" I sat up rubbing my eyes not so much from being asleep but because there she was inches from me, touching me, talking to me. When I had gained my composure I spluttered my thanks and asked her how she had found me.
"I didn't find you, I followed you" she said smiling. I was confused, "but I've been here for hours" I said. "I know, I was just watching you, like you have been watching me"
I was embarrassed and turned as red as I would have had I been burnt by the sun. I struggled to get out of this but came up with nothing. "Don't worry" she said "Your just a boy, thats what boys do" I avoided her eyes feeling guilty. She laughed "Don't be shy, I like you looking at me, you think I'm pretty don't you?" I mumbled that I thought she was beautiful. "Ok then, you can hold my hand" she said, she took hold of my hand as she lay down beside me and locked her fingers in mine.
We lay there in the hot summer sun for hours talking and laughing, I remember how perfect she looked, how when she came close to me I could smell strawberries, I recall how her white summer dress showed off her young budding figure and how she bit her bottom lip when she was thoughtful. I remember the shock when she asked me if I wanted to kiss her, and the relief when she didn't wait for an answer and put her lips on mine. I felt the power that youth has surge through me for as long as the kiss lasted, it seemed like hours but it could only have been seconds.
Most of all I remember how proud I felt that this girl was my friend. She became my friend and stayed my friend throughout that summer, and every warm day we spent in that field, or roaming others, when it rained we walked higher into the hills to watch nature protest and as we watched we made plans for our future that of course never came to be.
Inevitably summer turned to autumn and as the first leaves fell I returned to our new house and my new school. We kept in touch for years after, as time went by the letters became more infrequent and finally stopped altogether when she went to university. I'm glad that I never went back to see her, I think it would have been a disappointment, and the ruin of a wonderful memory.
Some years later I found myself at a dinner dance in a posh hotel in Manchester, the dinner having been eaten I made my way to the bar for a G & T. I was on my second drink when I noticed a very attractive woman in evening dress talking to a man who seemed a little annoyed. He looked across at me several times before downing his drink and leaving. When I looked at the woman again she smiled and raised her glass to me, I looked away decided to finish my drink and go.
Before I could do so the woman had walked over to me and as I turned to leave she said "You have been watching me haven't you" I said that I most certainly hadn't, sure that there was going to be trouble. She threw her head back and laughed, "Don't worry, thats what boys do" I was puzzled, she laughed again "You haven't got a clue who I am have you David" I apologized, "I'm sorry no I haven't" She smiled knowingly and for an instant I thought I did recognize her, "Its Catherine, have I changed that much" and there she was again, more beautiful than I remembered and chiding me again for staring at her.
We spent the rest of the evening dancing and talking over times gone by, and for a short time I felt like that boy again so many years before in a sloping field bedazzled by a perfect girl who smelled of strawberries. But just as that summer ended, so did the evening. As the guests spilled out of the hotel we walked slowly to her car.
I thanked her for a wonderful evening and suggested we do it again sometime, she bit her bottom lip and looked thoughtful, smiling she said "I don't think that would be a good idea" then she kissed me and was gone.
2 Comments:
"'Tis Spring - the season when a young man's fancy turns to thoughts of love."
Another wistful tale without a happy ending.
Aren't they the best ones?
Kaz
So they say Kaz, can't remember ever being lucky in love I'm afraid despite being the perfect man. Still sex more than makes up for that.
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