Bloomington High School North, Nikean, 1984, Page 162

Description:	DAYS BETWEEN SUMMER AND AUTUMNBy Vee RingoOne Autumn day, a day of suchmiserable weather that the greynessof the clouds dictated your depressing thoughts, I sat in a poorly heatedtea house with an old friend. Wewere seated, motionless andbrooding, by the only window inthe room, out of which we staredbeyond the sidewalk and street. Itwas early September and I feltcaught in the five or six days ofnothingness between the seasons,particularly the warmth of summerand the ensuing dread of autumn. Itseemed as if nothing actually happened at this time of year, or, if itdid, that it didnt matter. Feeling as ifthere was no reason for being atthat moment, or possibly ever, weboth sat quietly staring, thinkingaloud, lamenting our lost love.I can remember... She spokeslowly into her cup. She spoke in avoice that knew the story by heart,having said it so often to herself thatshe couldve recited it during a fitfulsleep. He would bring me flowers... he would steal a single flowerfrom work ... steal the vases, tooShe wasnt there, she was at herdoorstep, smiling, surprised, receiving a flower from a tired busboywho loved her in the way that onlya confused adolescent could. Hereyes were fixed on some pure,white sugar on the tablet op.And sometimes I wasnt at homewhen he stopped by, so hed leavethem on my doorstep ... hed tuckone of the restaurants matchbooksinto the top of the vase ...Her voice faded, touching onlythe edges of my recognition. I couldstill vividly recall the neon lightbehind his shoulder. The letterswere a bright, periwinkle blue thatflickered on and off noisily, drawingmy attention to their words out of irritation. I watched them flicker untilthe one letter died out and the noisestopped. He held his enormoushand out on the table, forming akind of circle on which my fingertipsrested, looking much like a youngchilds legs draped over the edge ofa pool. My fingers were frail andskinny against his hand. In thetightening of his fist he couldfortlessly broken my fingers. I lookedup and smiled and he smiled back,both with mouth and eyes.lt was alook that reassured me of his kindness, his friendship, his care. In aglance he told me that he wouldnever hurt me. Over and over again,I could see that he knew exactlywhat I needed and what I wanted.He knew who I was. I clung to himto find out, too.I wondered if he rememberedme.I wanted to tell my friend, toshare with her some of my sadromance. I opened my mouth tospeak when I felt a catch in mythroat that grew to an uncomfortable lump. I lowered my eyes, looking down at my folded hands.I like flowers, too ... I finallymurmured.She nodded slightly, and wereturned to staring past the stainedglass. The days would soon pass,and autumn would fade the doubtsof summers end.
Source:	http://cdm17129.contentdm.oclc.org/cdm/ref/collection/hs-bloomnorth/id/1858
Collection:	Bloomington High School North

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