Perfect SimplicityA Story by jessfoundwonderAfternoons on the summer sidewalk were beautiful and unwritten. I would glide through the breeze like the wings of a kite, wheeling the little red wagon given from Grandpa to me. Glass pitchers of pink-lemonade overflowed onto my wagon, leaving it sugar-coated ever since. I was some kind of important in my yellow sun dress. I'd wait on the curb of an idle street for someone to come. '25 cents' was hand-written on the back of a Lost Dog flyer and Scotch taped to the side of my wagon. All kinds of people would pass me by. Fancy business-men in their black suits and expensive cars would look away. Runners would slow to a jog and yell apologies to me over the blare of their Walkmens that they were short on cash. Indifferent dog-walkers would smile and wave and tell me they'd be back in a while, but they'd never come. Other kinds of people would give me the time of day. Old couples holding hands would purchase my too-sour lemonade and smile through the bitter taste and thank me. Children would come running, begging for my 'sweet' services. Happily, their mothers would pay me a quarter or two, and I'd proudly pour the lemonade into paper dixie cups. I probably made a dollar that day. The summer days of my seventh year are all but cloudy. Half my life ago I was so simple and complete. A lemonade stand would have easily occupied my every afternoon. I can't recall anything more memorable than that from my childhood. Pure and even. I had found my place. © 2009 jessfoundwonderReviews
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2 Reviews Added on March 10, 2009 Author
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