As a TINY GIRL...

I grew up next door

to an extraordinary family.

I was enamored of my friend, Peter.

He was remarkable,

know-all and be-all and do-all, to me.

At 3 I found him full of information. Fascinating.
At 4 we planned our wedding, our marriage.
Actually, Peter planned it and it seemed quite logical.
I was perfectly willing to join in.

He was my best friend after all.
He explained that we would live in a mansion.
I would wear furs.
We would be driven by our chauffeur
in our Cadillac Limousine.

This made sense to me

as my grandmother had the same.

A fashionable hillside home ringed with wide views, even to the bay.
Romantically it was called Rimrock.
A "hillevator" rumbled slowly up, traversing the steep hill.
Unknown was the reason, as
a car could drive right to the front entrance.

Surrounded by firs and flowers, we walked by
statuary and low mossy walls covered in lichen,
we could enter the always tasteful sun room,
and on into the drawing room from there.

The kitchen cook made miniature, lemon cookies
with delicate bits of lime peel, enhancing the soft, colorful bites.

My grandmother's Cadillac was capped with a windshield, to shield eyes from glare.Small vases on the polished burl, held a fresh flower.
She in her fur and me in my mary~janes,
we sat in the back, as large as the living room.
Dark navy blue, matching leather.
I have no idea where we went or what we did.
Visiting with my namesake was an Occasion.
This elegant French lady favored me.
It was nice to be adored.


Years later, with babies of my own, I visited her apartment.
Always dressed from head to toe, flowing hair pinned up.

Me'Me' watched daytime t.v.
She was concerned about Raven dropping her responsibilities,
neglecting her babies, for a new love.
We watched together, while she offered me advice:
Nestle's hair cream would create delightful curls for B & J.
Careful instructions were given. Rub well into the scalp.

"I must get back to my chores at home.", I'd tell her,
describing the washing and drying to be done.
"You do your own laundry?!" she exclaimed.


It came to me all of a sudden,
She was 82 and had never lifted a finger.
Now, weak and old, she resented making her own soup.

The retirement home cost a whole house.
Money not to be returned upon her 'leaving'.
The wealth and the lifestyle that Peter foresaw, required a fortune.

At 5 and walking to kindergarten,

holding hands with my dear friend...

I was innocent of the world beyond Rimrock.

We planned for the future, my hero and me.
Slowly walking to school.
But too soon we grew up.

The end came with the singsong teasing,
"Peter and his girlfriend up in a tree...k..i..s..s..i..n..g.
First comes LOVE,
then comes MARRIAGE,
then comes a baby in the baby carriage!"

Then I walked a few steps behind my first true love in silence.
Admiring him mightily while loosing his comfort.

Too soon, too soon