From a writing competition with guidelines and prompts.
(A group of friends visits the beach to reminisce about the past…) 1000 word max.
The Good Ol’ Days
By 2B’s
I get out of the car and immediately recognize the fragrance of salt air. Orange Beach, Alabama. Heavenly childhood memories flood back, as if I’m watch a slide show. I hear the waves, close my eyes, take a deep breath and for a moment it slips my mind the reason we are all getting together this weekend.
“Hey girl Hey!!” I hear ‘Blair Bear’ yell from the top of the stairs. We are older now, twenty five years older to be exact. She rushes down to hug me and immediately my eyes tear up. “Thank you for coming” I whisper as I choke back the lump in my throat. “Absolutely, sister, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.” She whispered back.
Slowly, one by one, “The Sassy 6” showed up with warm hugs, laughter and lots of love. I looked around the open floor plan of our families beach house and took it all in. The gang was back together and it was just as magical as when we were teenagers.
Wine, snacks, pizza, and homemade monkey bread filled the air with a flash back of our innocence. Monkey Bread would eventually be deemed our mascot as it was a staple of any get together. The first bite would instantly trigger the “guess what”’s and the “you’ll never believe”s. However, this group meeting was different.
We all had swapped the sodas to a glass of boxed wine. We never claimed to be high dollar but we were known as ladies not to be messed with. Without fail the monkey bread was passed around as if it was our communion. The magical stories started flowing.
Our moms were best friends and by default we became sisters. Jenny starts the story telling “Remember when we took the jet skis out and bumped into each other?? And you told Momma L, you hit a turtle.” The room erupted in laughter.
Stephanie follows up with “or the time we broke into the liquor cabinet and drank a bottle of mixer thinking it had alcohol? We just knew we were drunk but only had the wildest sugar buzz.” I am looking around the room and faces are red now. One more story and the uncontrollable laughing tears should start.
April raises her hand and hollers “No …y’all… nooo… ‘cat shit alley’!!!”
That’s the one. The story that never gets old. Cue laughing tears. “B’ had something going on, pooped her pants and had to walk down 3 houses and that half mile driveway Sas, said she couldn’t ride in the car with ‘cat shit in her pants’”. Everyone all together says “cat shit alley”. The roar of laughter is contagious, tissues being passed around, every one trying to catch their breath. Surely, this is Heaven. I interrupted the gaggle “ok ok ok… the something I had going on was food poisoning and that is the closest to death I have ever come.”
The room got silent and “sassy” came over, crawled under the blanket with me and said “are you scared?”
The gaggle of girlfriends all quietly start trying to hide the tears. Sassy and I squeezed hands but I didn’t reply. Someone jumped up and said “more monkey bread??” I started the “Good Ol’ Days” stories right back up with “who remembers the Geo Metro??” Another sister says “or the time we passed the state trooper going 100miles an hour…” story after story. Memory after memory. We didn’t have anything sad to talk about, except for the elephant in the room, the reason we all dropped everything to be with each other.
Nobody, wanted to hear about the elephant. I watched all the magic we experienced as teens come back to life. I finally asked April to pop the bottle and pass out flutes. I took our friendship ring and tapped the side of my glass to make a toast. I started off in true fashion with a joke “write this moment down… only one of us is talking at the time.” The gang gave me the ‘haha’ laugh and I began my actual toast.
“To answer your question Sas, No, I am not scared. I have y’all and I know y’all are going to make me proud. I asked y’all to be here with me this weekend because I have a pinky promise request…” pinky’s went in the air as if it was a reflex to hearing the word. “… y’all know the kids are 16 and 11 now so I don’t need y’all to raise them… but my dying wish is to have y’all meet them at this house every year on this weekend. No matter what… if the house blows away find a tent or something. The waves out there in-front of our house is going to be my final resting place. I want them to hear our wild and crazy stories. I want y’all to tell them how much fun and love we all shared. The only thing I am seriously afraid of… is them forgetting everything I worked so hard to teach them. So I’m asking y’all to remind them every chance y’all get, send my little girl a random text and tell her I love her… make sure my son opens the door and takes out the trash.”
Tears are filling up the room so quick, tissues are crumbling, and it’s the quietest I’ve ever seen our small gang.
“So, sisters, today I’m asking you to pass my gang membership to my babies and keep my spirit in the Sassy 6?” Heads are nodding yes, but still no words. I recite our mantra as we raise our champagne flutes and pinkies.
“Raise your pinkies and don’t let me down. We don’t need a wand and we don’t need a crown. We move mountains- We are bold - We are Classy truth be told- with our glasses in the air- all 6 be made aware… the promises has been made the sassy 6 are not afraid.”
Cheers Sisters.
