Let Me Tell You a Story

July 2004

Stuck in that moment.

Silently I cursed the heat, as gratefully I thanked God that my two-year-old son had fallen asleep in the back seat. The temperature gauge on the dashboard read 28 degrees Celsius, a height I only recall in the summers of my childhood. And in all honesty those memories could easily mistake fact for fiction.

Nevertheless temperatures soared today, following the trend that had started the previous week. A trend everyone submerged themselves in, yet still afraid to believe that the sunshine could possibly shine with such unabated vigour. Sun worshipers increased in their thousands, manufacturers of suncreams trebled their sales, ice-cream vendors couldn’t keep stock in the freezers. Sun-drenched employees relaxed and (dare one say it) quietly accepted their workloads, anticipating the end of a workday where they could still eagerly enjoy the warm delights of summer evenings.

And here I was, stuck in traffic! The line of cars ahead of me gave no sense of hope. Moving at snails pace, I knew it would be a while, and a long while at that, before I’d reach my destination. Grudgingly I accepted how much I’d appreciate the new shopping centre when it opened the following Spring. Meanwhile though, I prayed my son would remain asleep. A fractious two-year-old is not easily pleased in such rising temperatures. I don’t think that even the numerous delights of red tractors, tall cranes and big yellow diggers would appease him at that juncture.

As we inched along, I tentatively opened all the windows, hoping the air would circulate. Glancing back at my son, I prayed that the noises of the machinery outside would not wake him from hi slumber. I was lucky. Everything seemed to quieten, both the work vehicles and the cars all around me took on a low hum, seeming to blend with the heat.

Patiently I waited, ever so slowly inching forward. At the other side of the bridge a steamroller trudged along. The odour of the freshly laid tarmac hit me with a blast from the past. Exact details of that day are long since forgotten. What remains vivid in my memory is the weight of the sun upon my shoulders and the incessant heat I always remember in the summers of my past.

My mother and I had walked into ‘town’. Now you understand that we lived in the countryside, but we lived a short distance away on the outskirts of the main thoroughfare. For days I had plagued my mother to buy me a new pair of sandals and finally she agreed. I cannot describe the shops we entered or the sales-people we encountered. These minor details are long since lost. What I do remember clearly is my insistence that I wanted to wear my new sandals all the way home. The smell of new leather and the black shiny straps were simply too enticing to keep in their box until we reached home. After some pleading, my mother finally agreed to my request, frequently warning me to watch where I walked on the way home. Excited, I agreed (indeed I’d have agreed to anything if it meant I could ‘show off’ my fancy new footwear).

There were two routes from town to our house, simply described by us as the ‘front’ road and the ‘back’ road. Having walked to town the front way, we decided to return the back way. Giddily I skipped along, with childish conviction that everyone I encountered was enviously admiring my shiny new sandals. Every now and then I sneaked I quick glance. I was convinced I could see my reflection in the shiny black mirrors that gleamed in the sunshine. I couldn’t wait to show my friends my new attire and constantly urged my mother to hurry along, oblivious to the fact she was laden down with groceries.

The crossroads were a short distance from our house. I waved to the workmen as they laboured in the searing heat. As usual the paid me no heed. Having determined that there was no traffic approaching, I stepped onto the road. It was then I heard my mother call. Fleetingly I looked over my shoulder and wondered what she wanted. Her words were indistinct and I assumed they held no urgency. The next step remains crystal clear in my mind. My legs remained immobile. No amount of pulling or pushing would release my feet or my shiny black sandals as they sunk deeper and deeper into the newly laid tarmac. And forever I will remain stuck in that moment!

Pauline Power © 11/7/2004