…a memory of summer
Beneath the brilliant sun my bicycle spins its way down Brandt’s Creek Linear Park. I am exploring the neigbourhoods that have sprung up around this lazy stream in upper Glenmore, when I see a couple lying together on the wooded banks: two young teens, barely visible at the foot of a bush in bloom.
As I ride past they startle and squint at me, faces bursting with youth. They are new arrivals from the land of dolls and cowboys; impelled, I imagine, by questions about love and romance that the school library cannot answer. And as they fade in the distance behind, awkward images from my own youth surface with my smile.
A few minutes later I wheel back down the dirt path that traces the tree lined waterway and see them ambling up the street in my direction. They are simultaneously endearing and amusing: a motley duo of unschooled affection.
She wears white short-shorts and a tangerine T-shirt. Her long honey-blonde hair cascades onto her shoulders, and she is literally half an arm’s length taller than he. Her partner is dressed in black calf-length pants, while a baseball cap sits askew on a head of short brown hair. Her left arm lies draped over his shoulder, and as I pass I see that this Casanova has placed his hand on her hip. I giggle, look back and see that they are still in position; unabashed on a neigbourhood street, perhaps seeking a more secluded hideaway, on a hot afternoon.