There was a park where I lived as a kid, and we all met there to watch the boys play handball and stick ball hockey. One day, this boy I really liked, asked if he could ride me home on his bicycle. Sure I said, and he lifted me up onto the handlebars. It became a habit after that day. He even carved our initials together on one of the park benches. After a few weeks of this, he rode me home on his bike, walked me up to my front door and kissed me. I was in heaven. In my innocence and young mind, I thought that kiss would mean that someday we would get married, when we finished school.
He surprised me with his school pin, from Saint Francis of Assisi. Later, he gave me a ring with both our initials on it. On Saturdays, we went to the movies, sat in the last row so no one would see us kissing. I had a girlfriend, a true friend, Helen. I heard after a while, that my true friend's mother was inviting my boyfriend to her house for dinner. I knew he loved food, but, that much?
After a time, he stopped coming to the park. I was confused and I missed
our bicyle rides. I did finally see him one day and he looked shy and uncomfortable. He mentioned that his mother thought he should only be with Irish catholic girls. Well, I was catholic wasn't I? But - not Irish. A year later, I heard he got married, to my true friend, you know, the one with the cooking mother.
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a bicycle story
Yes, the one with the cooking mother. Grr. Straight-forward and down to earth. My kind of writing. *
I totally love this sweet little story
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Good story. Enjoyed reading. My mother used to advise me in the same way about Irish Catholic girls.
I like the revision, Estelle. Nice work. The ending is effective.
What Jack said goes for me. Although I could add that if he'd ever read Joyce, he'd'a been running away from those Irish Catholic girls ...
Good story, Estelle.
thank you all for reading this.
Yes James, too bad he never read Joyce. Those catholic schools don't allow anything but what those fathers allowed.
So simply told and you managed somehow to bring in her perspective as young girl so thoughtfully. Wonderful.
You really catch the innocence of a time when she saw it all ahead of her and then it crashed down practically next-door with her best friend. Great job, Estelle!
thanks, Shelagh and Meg. You really felt her pain.
yeah, the true friend and her cooking mother...
I love how he's not even named
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he may still be alive!!! Can't name him.
thanks so much
This s a lovely story. I like the mystery also. *
so glad you liked my story Robert.
thanks.
I love Meg's comments, Estelle. I see the time and what it was to court a girl (as it were). Still, I found it sad.
thanks for seeing the time, and the sadness life gives us sometimes.
I love the innocence of this, and the excitement. Those Irish guys can be heart-breakers, with their rules and their food, etc. *
I was so surprised to hear you read that story, its been on a long while. Yes, innocence can sure break your heart.Thanks so much Beate, I re-read it and you know what? It still hurts, just a little