I remember dubbing the boys “the quicksand monsters,” screaming and running as they chased after us girls. They stopped their chasing when we planned recess weddings. When one of these was planned, I sometimes took it so seriously that I made paper flowers at home the night before. We girls would attach a toilet paper veil to the bride’s head, give her some paper flowers, and then attempt – often unsuccessfully – to catch a groom.
In one clear memory, the joy of recess must have caused me to shed my normally shy demeanor, because one day in first grade I christened myself “the kissing angel” and began roaming the playground, kissing everyone I encountered.
Apparently some of the kids weren’t so enamored of my new identity, because someone told on me and I was soon face to belly button with the imposing teacher on duty that day.
“Are you going around kissing people?” she demanded?
“I’m the kissing angel …” When said out loud, it lost a lot of its charm.
“You can’t just do that. Go stand on the wall.”
I still remember my embarrassment as I stood by the wall as the other kids walked by into the school.
Memory is a child walking along a seashore. You never can tell what small pebble it will pick up and store away among its treasured things.
~Pierce Harris, Atlanta Journal