Outside the Lines
Diary of an 8-year-old
Stafford, Virginia, the summer of 1955
It’s so hot today. Too hot to take a ride on Dolly, my black mare. She prefers a cooler day, and definitely prefers no saddle or bridle. Just me, softly settled on her broad back, a light tug on her mane letting her know which direction I’d like to go. She sometimes humors me and goes that way.
Dolly and I never have a care in the world when we’re together in the fields. We spend endless summer days galloping through the forests or just moseying aimlessly through the tall grass. I like to lie down on her back and watch the shapes in the clouds change from bunnies to tigers, from marching armies to spinning ballerinas. I hope summer never ends. Maybe today I’ll go down to my secret shady place and pick violets for Mom.
Grandmother is visiting for a while. I think she really enjoys spending time with me in the summer, and I think she’s a very nice lady. Sometimes Granddaddy comes too, from New York. He’s a truck driver and he likes beer. Last summer he brought the piano outside under my willow tree and taught me to play and sing “Take Me Out to the Ball Game.” We always laugh when he’s around.
Today Grandmother wants to teach me some Latin. “Amo, amas, amat, amamos, amateis, amant,” over and over. Yesterday I learned the chapters of the…
