CHAPTER 4 - THE YELLOW THING, THE PRICE IS RIGHT AND ORANGE POPSICLES

It's so funny to think back to what my earliest childhood memories are. Sometimes I swear I can remember the crib/bunkbed that my Dad built when we lived in the trailer. The walls were paneling that were painted this muted avacado green with white striping. I swear I remember my mom painting in between the panels with q-tips. Such strange things.

I also remember either dreaming or actually jumping off the end of the bunk bed. The end with the ladder. I would do a full 360 twirl off the end, gently gliding down from the top. Of course it's possible that it's real, but more than likely, just a dream. I think that there was probably a dresser at the end of the bed also. At times I think it was parallel with the bed at the end, at others it's perpendicular. Either way, it doesn't matter.

I loved that bed. I really do remember that. I would wake up as my dad would leave for work. I would be all cuddly in the yellow and white zig-zag patterened afaghan. My toes shoved in the holes, stretched as much as possible to cover my head. Now I know that the blanket probably covered me, but I know that, as a child, I stretched it to cover me up and hide. I didn't need to hide, but it was fun for Dad to come in and peek under and check on me.

One of my fondest memories was about that bed, the blanket and a Dixie cup of KoolAid. I don't know how often it happened, but I imagine it happened often enought to be emblazoned on my brain. Waking early in the morning and asking for a drink. Dad would bring a Dixie cup of KoolAid. I still think it's the greatest thing ever. (As a parent, I only bring my girls water!) Red KoolAid. It was cool and sweet and tasted so wonderful. I wouldn't just gulp it down, I'd slowly sip at it. I still remember, even thirty-some years later how great that KoolAid tasted in the dark room.

I had a fondness for the artifically sweet, bright things that were given to me as a child. I especially loved orange popsicles. I remember eating them on Rock Street on the porch. I remember eating them at Camp. And I remember eating them with her.

She had this yellow thing. It wasn't quite an ottoman, more like a foot stool without feet. It looked a tad bit like a layercake with a folded gold pleather cover. I would take it on it's side and flop my body onto it. Being only 4, I was small enough to roll on it. Much like a printroller, I would roll myself over the top, back and forth and back and fort. The yellow thing is stuck in my head.

The yellow thing is where I always sat. She sat in her chair, watching game shows. I always loved to watch them with her. "Family Feud" and "The Price is Right." The combination of her, and me sitting on the yellow thing, watching a game show and eating an orange popsicle was pure bliss. Ending up with sticky fingers and being washed by her. Climbing into her lap and being smothered with kisses and tight hugs for "her Brown Eyed Love Bug."

I've only had one other orange popsicle in my life since she's been gone. I just can't bring myself to eat another. I tried, once. I couldn't finish it. I tried because I shared my story with my husband. He got me to try. And I couldn't do it. I doubt I will ever have another.