February 20, 2016

I thought about Leigh the other day. She popped into my head. We were on that old wooden clunky rollercoaster in Ocean City Maryland. I am not one for rollercoasters to begin with. It was later in the evening. I remember how it rattled. I can smell the cotton candy and the fried food. Ocean City. It was about two hours from where we both lived. It was the place to go for teenagers at that time. 1975-6. Leigh worked there the summer after high school as a waitress. A dream job to me. I stayed on at Marina’s the Italian restaurant down by the dock in Annapolis. We wore white painter pants and shirts, with red white and green aprons. Leigh worked there as well. I helped get her the job like my sister helped me. It was mostly pizza then. The pizza oven and the counter at the front of the store. A big window looking out at the street. There were submarines on Italian rolls, that were delivered in large brown paper bags left on the stoop. The cornmeal dusting the pavement. The smell of warm bread. Various people worked there. Italian boys. An old Indian man. A young black boy that used to sweep up. He sang the Hall and Oats song “Sarah smile”.

Leigh , I went to high school with her. Our school was out of town .We rode the same bus. Our bus stop was the postoffice on Church Circle. She was smart and beautiful. She had long white blonde hair, pale blue eyes,light skin. She was tall and  wore straight legged corduroys which I was soon wearing too. I wanted to be her friend.  I did what I could to be near her. I kept at it until my adulthood. After I moved away. I sent her a Christmas card every year. Sometimes, I would see her when I would go home to see my mother. After I had married and had children. She stayed beautiful but developed some serious health problems. She had a bad marriage. She stopped writing after awhile. My Christmas cards unanswered.

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About jensiper

I like to write now and then
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4 Responses to February 20, 2016

  1. Gabriele says:

    Something bitter sweet about this. The sepia of times and friends long gone, but still the heart can feel them. Enjoyed this with a soft ache in my chest. It feels like this could be the seedling for a longer story. I so would love to hear more about Leigh and the attempts to befriend her.

  2. I often wonder about people I was in touch with. They stop writing and you feel
    they are sending a message. This is a post that needed to be written. A form of closure.

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