Saturday Morning

[Landscape view is recommended on a mobile device]

Bright colored bowls. Huge.
Repurposed from oleo. Fake butter.
America’s Dairyland. Controversy.
Nineteen seventy something.
We had many. Big family.
My sister and I pick our favorite color.
Fill it with a special treat.
Sugar-coated cereal we rarely got to eat.
Honeycomb. Big! Yeah, Yeah, Yeah!
Sugar Smacks.
Frosted Mini Wheats.
Trix are for kids.
We were. Living a good life.
Footloose and fancy free.
Scooby-Doo, where are you?
You meddling kids!
Playing in the woods.
Setting fields on fire.
Not us. No, not us.
We were goodie-two-shoes.
Small town. Family pride.
Shame. A form of obedience.
Sneaking smokes with my only friend.
Peer pressure.
Her lungs gave out way too soon.
I hate the smell of cigarette smoke.

Summer days.
Frogs and crayfish from the crick.
Not the creek. A crick moves but slower.
Inner tubes on Wheeler Lake.
Bass Lake beach.
Ride our bikes all day long.
Cousin Bobby’s banana-seat bike.
Sweet ride!
Sis bought it with her own money.
Metallic flecked vinyl seat. Green I think.
I got the hand-me down bike with ten coats of paint.
A seat that pinched my chubby thighs.
Learned to ride in Ruby Flynn’s yard.
Back-pedal brakes. Crashed into a bush.
All the neighbors kids around.
Laughing at ourselves.
Coming of age.

Mikey Flynn delivers Frito Lay.
All the kids gather.
Help stack potato chip boxes.
Metal conveyor rolls whirl.
Twin-Pak. Fresh seal. One by one.
Build a tower in the corner of Merlin’s garage.
An Up-North warehouse.
Something to do. Lend a hand.
Maybe earn a nickel.

Straight to the grocery store.
A Push-up Pop. Orange.
My favorite color then.
Lick the paper wrapper covering the top.
Savor every drop to the plastic wheel inside.
Make it into something for my Barbie Doll.
Just one, Malibu. Until there was Ken.
Outdoor wedding with a toilet paper runner.
Wedding cake made in the EZ Bake Oven.
Dreams of our own big day.
Age seven. Already looking for Ken.

So many memories. I could go on.
Flavors bring memories.
Aromas warm my heart.
Mogan David Concord Grape. Still too sweet.
The crisp smell of winter.
Early spring thaw.
Outboard motors. Coppertone.
A & W Root Beer in a frosty mug.
Lightening bugs in the air.
My favorite things.
A few triggers resonate too.
The smell of that fateful garage.
Yet, more good than bad.
Recollections and memories.
Bring back those Saturday mornings.
A plastic bowl of Corn Pops.
Rut-Roh! No crying over spilt milk.

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