In the summertime, sensations linger in the hot air that are bound to make vivid memories. Sunlight is cast
through the treetops to make a shady and cool impression, and the wind carries the ocean with it to create the cool
dampness that strikes the back of one's neck. Vivid, bright colors add to the sensations and that is why adults can
remember the playful atmospheres they grew up in and recall some of the best details of their lives.
Several years before now, two young children in Flower Bud Village sat in the garden of the bakery that still
stands today. The sweet aroma of cakes fresh out of the oven wafted in the breeze and hung in the thick summer
heat, teasing their sense of smell. The little girl's grandmother sighed happily, gazing at the little ones through her
spectacles and moving at an unchanging rate in her wooden rocking chair. This was about a decade before she had
donned her white bonnet, and her hair was still gray-white.
The children's favorite game resumed in front of the serene old woman, for in the early years of life there is
no shame of improvising in the presence of adults. In those times, all was innocent and carefree naiveté was a
freedom generally accepted into society.
Little Elli's large eyes were still purest of clear brown and her face a softer porcelain. The minute little girl
came back into the soft, dewy grass of the garden from behind the bushes facing the flower shop across the
cobblestone sidewalk, barefooted. Old, cheap discarded plates from the bakery were in her chubby hands bearing
their sun-dried imitation of chocolate pancakes. One of their unwritten laws of childhood said that the space between
the grandmother's rocking chair and the hedges was the hallway leading into the kitchen, and Elli had come back
from this imaginary place not yet refined.
"Honey, dinner's ready!!" she announced cheerfully to the little boy in her young, natural girlish voice. As
she sat down in the grass carefully with the plates in her hands, a premeditated grace and poise for the future, her
blue dress spread out like the wide petals of a flower, concealing her knees, legs, and feet. Short chestnut brown hair
spilled into her eyes and she brushed her bangs back with her fingers. Long, perfect eyelashes helped to bring out
the pretty little picture she represented.
The little boy's blue cap shielded him from the sunlight. Wearing it backwards was his thing, so his own
chestnut-brown bangs were sticking out the front. Elli liked the willingness in him to play house and stay by her
when other boys her age wouldn't. He had an amazing imagination and therefore a perfect portrayal for hunger in his
face when his wife-- this was Elli's role-- brought out a new dish.
"Is it time already?" he asked. "You're such a good cook, dear."
The grandmother smiled; she must have been only pretending to be paying attention to what she was
knitting. Her happiness was seeing Elli's happiness-- a friend she could always play with and talk to, someone who
shared and understood her interest in someday learning to cook and bake. Even more astounding was the fact that
the child whom this friend was happened to be a little boy. He had been over more frequently now than the florist
Lillia's daughter, Popuri, who was one of Elli's best girl friends. Elli's eyes wouldn't sparkle when they practiced their
feminine duties for the future as they would when she and the little boy improvised grass for herbs and things like
that. Even little Maria, who could read at this age, would help her learn her parents' recipes by heart, but it wouldn't
have been fit to play house with other little girls, for whom would have wanted the father's role? Elli was happier off
even without a third party to play as the child. In every game of house, the child would just be coming someday, left
undefined.
The next fragment Elli could recall of that day was when the little boy's grandfather had come to pick him
up. The little boy did not live in Flower Bud Village and only came to visit for the summer. Elli frowned and didn't
want to see her favorite friend go, but for that summer he was her husband and she wanted to make sure he would
never forget that, and that they could resume when he came back next summer. It was a bitter disappointment that he
couldn't be there to see her learn to bake real cakes and pies with her parents.
The little boy's eyes filled with tears as his grandfather thanked Elli's grandmother for everything that
afternoon. He was at least thankful that they were having a long discussion.
"Don't worry, when you come back next summer I'll have a real pie ready for you," Elli tried to comfort her
sniffling friend, upset to see his red face.
"I don't know if I'm coming back," he said, tears flowing down his face already. Sympathetic Elli wanted to
cry as well, but didn't.
"Well..... When we grow up, we're gonna get married for real, okay?" Her tear-filled eyes widened.
Her friend nodded desperately, blinking back tears and sniffling. "You promise?"
"I promise." She hugged him and could feel his hot tears on her shoulder, not minding in the least. Her eyes
widened when he kissed her cheek discreetly, and fortunately his grandfather didn't see. He picked his grandson up
and reminded him that his father would be coming in the morning, so the boy's face brightened a little. Elli didn't
know anything about her friend's father but she knew that the boy loved him very much. She didn't want to see him
go but she was glad that he would be happy going home to his father. It was actually a comical little smile she last
saw the boy with, a struggle for a small upturn of the lips as his face was red and swollen. There was still a sincerity
behind that face, although it was a sincerity that would be long forgotten.
through the treetops to make a shady and cool impression, and the wind carries the ocean with it to create the cool
dampness that strikes the back of one's neck. Vivid, bright colors add to the sensations and that is why adults can
remember the playful atmospheres they grew up in and recall some of the best details of their lives.
Several years before now, two young children in Flower Bud Village sat in the garden of the bakery that still
stands today. The sweet aroma of cakes fresh out of the oven wafted in the breeze and hung in the thick summer
heat, teasing their sense of smell. The little girl's grandmother sighed happily, gazing at the little ones through her
spectacles and moving at an unchanging rate in her wooden rocking chair. This was about a decade before she had
donned her white bonnet, and her hair was still gray-white.
The children's favorite game resumed in front of the serene old woman, for in the early years of life there is
no shame of improvising in the presence of adults. In those times, all was innocent and carefree naiveté was a
freedom generally accepted into society.
Little Elli's large eyes were still purest of clear brown and her face a softer porcelain. The minute little girl
came back into the soft, dewy grass of the garden from behind the bushes facing the flower shop across the
cobblestone sidewalk, barefooted. Old, cheap discarded plates from the bakery were in her chubby hands bearing
their sun-dried imitation of chocolate pancakes. One of their unwritten laws of childhood said that the space between
the grandmother's rocking chair and the hedges was the hallway leading into the kitchen, and Elli had come back
from this imaginary place not yet refined.
"Honey, dinner's ready!!" she announced cheerfully to the little boy in her young, natural girlish voice. As
she sat down in the grass carefully with the plates in her hands, a premeditated grace and poise for the future, her
blue dress spread out like the wide petals of a flower, concealing her knees, legs, and feet. Short chestnut brown hair
spilled into her eyes and she brushed her bangs back with her fingers. Long, perfect eyelashes helped to bring out
the pretty little picture she represented.
The little boy's blue cap shielded him from the sunlight. Wearing it backwards was his thing, so his own
chestnut-brown bangs were sticking out the front. Elli liked the willingness in him to play house and stay by her
when other boys her age wouldn't. He had an amazing imagination and therefore a perfect portrayal for hunger in his
face when his wife-- this was Elli's role-- brought out a new dish.
"Is it time already?" he asked. "You're such a good cook, dear."
The grandmother smiled; she must have been only pretending to be paying attention to what she was
knitting. Her happiness was seeing Elli's happiness-- a friend she could always play with and talk to, someone who
shared and understood her interest in someday learning to cook and bake. Even more astounding was the fact that
the child whom this friend was happened to be a little boy. He had been over more frequently now than the florist
Lillia's daughter, Popuri, who was one of Elli's best girl friends. Elli's eyes wouldn't sparkle when they practiced their
feminine duties for the future as they would when she and the little boy improvised grass for herbs and things like
that. Even little Maria, who could read at this age, would help her learn her parents' recipes by heart, but it wouldn't
have been fit to play house with other little girls, for whom would have wanted the father's role? Elli was happier off
even without a third party to play as the child. In every game of house, the child would just be coming someday, left
undefined.
The next fragment Elli could recall of that day was when the little boy's grandfather had come to pick him
up. The little boy did not live in Flower Bud Village and only came to visit for the summer. Elli frowned and didn't
want to see her favorite friend go, but for that summer he was her husband and she wanted to make sure he would
never forget that, and that they could resume when he came back next summer. It was a bitter disappointment that he
couldn't be there to see her learn to bake real cakes and pies with her parents.
The little boy's eyes filled with tears as his grandfather thanked Elli's grandmother for everything that
afternoon. He was at least thankful that they were having a long discussion.
"Don't worry, when you come back next summer I'll have a real pie ready for you," Elli tried to comfort her
sniffling friend, upset to see his red face.
"I don't know if I'm coming back," he said, tears flowing down his face already. Sympathetic Elli wanted to
cry as well, but didn't.
"Well..... When we grow up, we're gonna get married for real, okay?" Her tear-filled eyes widened.
Her friend nodded desperately, blinking back tears and sniffling. "You promise?"
"I promise." She hugged him and could feel his hot tears on her shoulder, not minding in the least. Her eyes
widened when he kissed her cheek discreetly, and fortunately his grandfather didn't see. He picked his grandson up
and reminded him that his father would be coming in the morning, so the boy's face brightened a little. Elli didn't
know anything about her friend's father but she knew that the boy loved him very much. She didn't want to see him
go but she was glad that he would be happy going home to his father. It was actually a comical little smile she last
saw the boy with, a struggle for a small upturn of the lips as his face was red and swollen. There was still a sincerity
behind that face, although it was a sincerity that would be long forgotten.