Little red Corvette

I'm going to tell this story the way I remember it. It may not be exactly how it happened, but that's not important. It's the memories that matter. They may get cloudy and mixed up, the middle of the story blending with the beginning, details enhanced or forgotten, but that's not important...

When I was a kid, we had a garden at the bottom of a small hill. We grew everything from tomatoes to green beans and even pumpkins. My Mom and Dad worked the garden with their own hands, tilling the soil and watering it in the early morning hours of summer. I loved to take off my shoes, wading through the cool earth, feeling it between my toes. I'd fill up our old, white, plastic bowl with green beans for dinner that evening. My Mom taught me how to tell if an eggplant is ripe or when a squash reached just the right size to pick. It's those things that stand out in my mind now, hot summer days , cold water from a hose and taking pride in something that I watched grow from seed to plant to a meal on my plate.

One day, my dad and I were in the garden when we heard the squeal of tires. Our garden was about 100 feet from the road and we looked up, shading our eyes from the sun. A red sportscar had slowed to a stop at the end of our yard. The window was down and all I could see was flowing brown hair, and red tipped nails. The woman looked elegant, sophisticated, beautiful. Everything I wanted to be when I got older. She slid her sunglasses gracefully down her nose peering over the rim at my dad.

"Hey sweetcheeks," she said.

My Dad looked up, confused. He squinted at her.

She pushed her glasses back into place and as she drove away I heard her laugh.

I remember this woman, her confidence and style. I created a life for her in my mind. She lived in the city and drank martinis. She laughed loudly and often. She was independent and had friends that loved her. She had an amazing job that she really loved and woke up everyday with a smile on her face. She was happy.

Years later, I found myself driving down the road to my Dad's house. It's been years since I thought about that woman, and as the sun shone down on my long blonde hair, I adjusted my sunglasses and realized, I'm her.

I became what I always wanted to be. Now, that's not to say I think I'm some hot chick in a little red sportscar who can call people Sweetcheeks whenever I want. No, it's more about the essence. I am the essence of that woman. I became confident and happy and what's more important is that I remember where I came from and how I got to be where, and who I am today.

Because when I have children I want them to remember simple, summer days and see the world through those eyes. Because even the most complex situations can be solved with a little childish enthusiasm, patience, love, and kindness.

(and a bottle of wine)