Ideallic

I did some cleaning out while I was off on vacation. I was actually looking for a hankie bonnet to give to my recently engaged daughter. The bonnet, which I was sure was in my hope chest somewhere was given to her when she was born. The search for it continues, as I did not find it where I expected. What I did find, between the pages of an old book, where I thought the bonnet might be pressed, was an old grocery ticket. A flood of memories came upon me as I looked at it. I was six and a half on the date the ticket was signed. My signature would hint to that if the date thereon did not establish it. What I picked up that cost  one dollar and sixty seven cents I could only guess at. I don't recall anything at all about the transaction. What I do recall is the place the ticket was signed. Haywood Grocery Store, Sasawka, Oklahoma. The store was just down the lane from my grandparent's house. The checkers there knew me by name.  I was allowed to ride my bike to the store to pick up what my Grandmother needed, sign the ticket, place the purchase in the wicker basket and then return with whatever it was within a reasonable time. I don't say quickly because at six I doubt I rode all that fast, even when I wanted to. I don't recall there ever being a reason to hurry much nor do I remember ever hurrying. I would meander, much the way the characters in the "Family Circus" cartoons do on the funny pages. Up and over, in and out, I went. Often I stopped by to pick up the mail on the corner where the Postmistress, Vella Carder, my grandparent's neighbor, often included a lollipop in the bundle of mail she handed me. From there I would take a different path back than the way I came. Down the street, up the ramp covered steps of a small church, by the Oliver's House where I would call out hello and if I got an answer, would stop to chat for a bit. There was no fear in my mind, ever. There was nothing to fear on my route. As long as I stayed on the sidewalks or grass paths and off the streets, I was safe.  I don't expect my grandparents had any qualms about my safety or I would not have had the freedom to come and go at my own pace that I enjoyed. They were always (seemingly) interested to hear about what I had done and seen and who I had talked to. They treated it just as I did, as a great adventure. That there is some tangible reminded of those adventures that cause me to reflect upon them is a matter of no small import to me. I am thinking of framing it...
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