Summer Solstice

For the 500 Words group... had to use the title Summer Solstice, write in the past tense, and depart from our normal "genre" of writing.

The official beginning of the last summer of my pre-adult freedom was one long, humid, sweat-stained-pits kind of day. Ginny Himpersnatz and I had been fishing at the mill pond every day that week, catching nothing but sunburns and then hell from our mothers, of course.  Their argument was that Ginny and I, at 17, were much too old to be "tom-boying around" and doing things like fishing, cursing, playing in the mud, and ruining our fantabulous summer dresses.

Ginny was the kind of girl who'd made her best friend look more attractive wherever we went. She was tall, sure, but no amount of height makes a girl carry two hundred and thirty pounds with grace or decorum. She slouched and shuffled when she walked, stringy riverbank -mud -colored hair dangling over her eyes in an odd geometric array. I was not much thinner, but a little, and my blond curly hair set off my not-as-dull-a-blue-as-Ginny's eyes.

On that everlasting scorcher of a day, the first day of the summer of 1974, my not-so-attractive girlfriend and I had found ourselves meandering toward the pond with our poles and some sodas, when we came across a brown leather wallet, lying flattened into the dirt road near Jasper's Mill.  Ginny--who always walked looking at her fat, sandaled feet-- stumbled upon it first, of course. I had been watching the birds eating insects out of a nearby wheat field.

"Look here, Marion, I wonder how much money is in here?", Ginny exclaimed.

"Probably nothin', if it belongs to anyone from around here."

"You want to open it, or you want me too?"

"I'll do it of course, Ginny. I'm always best at being first!"

All of this being said, I snatched the wallet from her hands, quickly thumbing it open. Right there as I'd first opened had been an identification card.

"Mr. James Summer... He's a dish!", shouted Ginny.

"Won't do any good for you, sister," I reminded her, "He's probably gonna go for me instead, when we find him."

Ginny looked back down to the ground... "I guess you're right."

Without even discussing it, we'd headed toward the address on Mr. Summer's I.D., which was only a few blocks back toward town from where we found his wallet.

At first, in response to my timid knock, had came only a stern, authoritative voice: "I don't want any cookies, magazines, vacuum cleaners, or religious tracts!"

I remember seeing a different man than the one on the ID right then, older, a military Sergent, graying temples and fierce scowl on a grim face. Ginny gave me that look she always gave me that told me," I can't speak up so you have to be the one to do it. "

I obliged her that afternoon, of course, as always. "We ain't sellin' nothing mister. We have somethin' of yours here. A wallet."

The man who opened the door had indeed looked much different than the ID, though it clearly was indeed James Summer who had been in that old photo. The thing was, he had robes on, long flowing purple robes that shimmered. Our jaws hit our chests, our breaths caught, and I remember clearly how I tried, suddenly, to appear indifferent.

"Mother Goddess blesses me on this solstice through your honest hands..."

Mr. Summer took the wallet and checked to see all was in order. It was, of course. He found three fifty dollar bills in there, just as there were when Ginny and I had found it in the road.

"Call me James, ladies, and let me repay you by sharing my feast with you on this blessed Summer afternoon."

Being as that James was indeed still quite dishy, and a fascinating person, Ginny and I sat down that afternoon and simply listened for a few hours, after we'd finished eating. It was the beginning of another long and beautiful friendship, and of course, it was through James Summer that I came to know the meaning of Solstice, of life, of my sensual nature, of the Goddess, and of my own inner Goddess... (but that's another story, to be told some other day.)

Reviews

[just rose.]

This is just really well done. You bring together two friends into this unexpected circumstance, and you leave the reader wanting more. I really enjoyed this.

[cartera]

This tale was developing nicely and I felt a little disappointed when it finished. Why did I think of To Kill A Mocking Bird? You write very well. Rather fancy a novel would suit you. Well done.
. . . . . .
I remember going fishing with a mate in a legendary hidden loch in the Scottish Highlands. The road took us through forest and along narrow tracks. In the middle of nowhere was the gamekeeper's cottage where he had to buy a permit to fish this secret loch. We approached up a path marked out by glorious flowers. We knocked on the door. The door opened and there stood the most beautiful young woman in a silk purple Japanese Kimono smiling at us. "Fish, to eh, fish, eh, yes, em . . .
Somehow we managed to get over the shock that her kimono was not hewn from Harris Tweed, but the glorious picture of this beautiful incongruity remains to this day.
ATB
Alex.

[Arthur Henn]

I'm with Ed Heart... Oh how much I want to lose my wallet. Just to have you find it. Loved the creativity of your story... You did well.

100%

Art

[clemon73]

You always amaze me with your description. I can see every detail very clearly as if i was walking with them, and your characters always have spunk, and are very enjoyable. Great job.

[Ed Hart]

promises, promises....I think I'll go right out and lose my wallet somewhere on your porch...

[Poetic Beauty]

This is a great detailed story of two friends. I love the personalities that each of the girls has. This is how true friendships are. We as friends can get by with things that we would dare let a stranger say to us. I would love to hear the story of James Summers. I like how you ended it so that you can add more later if you chose to. This reminds me of my childhood somewhat. Great story line and I love the dialog. I felt like I knew the characters.

[Bette]

i like this, well done. how did you like it?????:)