When I was Queenie

They thought me wild..ha!ha!

In the society of my youthful days I was the odd girl out. To them, I was the daughter of mischief…when most girls would walk…prim and cute and proper as expected.. I would run..run..run..feeling the wind in my hair ..without a care...reckless...

I would climb…climb…climb…trees and heights I wasn’t supposed to. …Thrill was my partner.

And as I sit here, with my eyes shut tight, hearing nothing but the rustle of the wind as it invites the leaves to prattle along, I am transported back to when I was 17.....and the wind was wild on my face…

I was alone….

in a field….

on a bike..

and how I pedaled and pushed

with wanton abandon

for nobody could see

but me

and the wind

and the field..

and the faint mountain far yonder

and the warmth of the

hot afternoon sun

at four

gave me my freckles

that I wear today

with my eyes closed..

a moment

I felt the wind on my face..

Rush..

and I swerved to the right just in time to notice how closely I was off a cliff..oh’ my!

and I stepped on the brakes and I felt me go down and slide and glide on the rough wild dirt of a country road side..

and my heart beat fast..so fast...silly stupid me..there was no pain..

when I looked down and saw my pants torn in two..there was blood on my knees..

and I took in a breath as I sat on the side of the road and brushed off myself wondering how to get back to the cottage where they all were….and I could see the stares I would get and the reprimand I would have to endure…for the bike was no more...passed on to the bike of afterlife..

So I sat there for awhile and I laughed and I laughed and I laughed…as I felt the wind on my face…alone and free and happy…

no loves.....no loss..

agreeing

nobody could possibly be

as wild a child as me....

at 17.

( I made that painting years ago in remembrance of that day)