A sticky memory

The Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus came to town. Pop had another woman to impress so we were to tag along for the “Greatest Show on Earth.” The three of us piled in the backseat. My older sibs always got the lap belt as the center strap was torn and I was a skinny Minny. Both my sibs convinced that by squishing me, render me safe from projection in any sudden vehicular catastrophe.

Pop glanced in the rear view, inquired if we were settled and in unison we replied, “Yes, Pops.” I recall one of his many talents was Pop could talk with a Marlboro dangling upon his lower lip.

I remember my sis wanted cotton candy. She insisted on pink cotton candy only. I wanted blue, of course and reluctant to share. Pop gave us a few bucks and coins, we made way in line.

And then like a lightning bolt from the sky; her beauty struck me dead. I studied her long locks, freckled nose, and sunken dimples. She was working that cotton candy stand. I told my sister that I’d be able to make her laugh and she rolled her eyes disagreeingly.

Our turn came, her greeting hurried and rather curt. I replied, “I’ll have blue.” My voice expressed a higher pitch than the norm. Nevertheless, I proceeded to ramble about the smell of elephant dung and the proximity to the concessions.

She laughed as she handed me the blue sugar whirl.

I said goodbye and turned to my sister. “Told you” and she said “amazing, but you had one job, and you didn’t get my cotton candy.”

“Blue tastes better Sis.”