First Last Friday
By ice rivers
- 1533 reads
Rizz didn't know the meaning of the word fear. He also didn't know the meaning of many other words which explains why he started out one grade ahead of me and finished one grade behind me at St. James.
I don't know how Rizz became acquainted with Mrs. Cole. I do know how he acquainted me with her. One Friday afternoon heading home from school, walking up Farmington towards Parsells, Rizz said, "Let's stop and see Mrs. Cole."
Since Rizz at the time was still one grade ahead of me, I trusted, agreed and followed.
Rizz walked up to the door of pleasant, white house on the corner of Farmington and DeCamp. He rang the doorbell.
Almost immediately a kindly looking, white haired woman appeared with a tray full of cookies
Rizz said "Hi, Mrs. Cole." and grabbed a couple of freshly baked chocoalte chip cookies. He handed one to me as he introduced me to Mrs. Cole. She smiled her kind smile and was glad to meet me. We said "Thank you, Mrs. Cole and continued our trudge homeward.
We continued to make this walk for the next couple of years, always on Fridays. Mrs. Cole always had cookies and candy.
She would always say "You're good boys." when we said goodbye. Good boys saying good byes.
I knew I shouldn't be taking candy from a stranger but even though I knew nogthing about her, Mrs Cole could not be a stranger after a hundred or so Fridays.
I guess the whole thing was supposed to be a secret. I never told my parents about Mrs. Cole. We never stepped past her doorway into her house. I never saw her husband.
Mrs. Cole appeared to be a nice old woman who liked kids and liked to cook and like to share her cooking with kids on Fridays.
Kids being me and Rizz
As far as I knew, we were the only kids who got cookies from Mrs. Cole.
Eventually, we out grew cookies. We had shortcuts that eliminated the need to walk up Farmington. We preferred cigarettes to cookies. We could smoke when we took our short cuts. Cookies were for kids.
I don't remember exactly the last time that we stopped off for cookies. Rarely do we know when anything is the last time. What we do, we've done and will continue to do until we're done if that day ever comes.
I had forgotten all about Mrs. Cole until last week when I was reading a short biography of Nat King Cole. Didn't I once know a lady, a nice lady named Mrs. Cole.
The gentle memory returned with resonance.
Yaeh, Mrs. Cole was an old woman.
Sheeyit.
I'm probably 20 years older now than Mrs Cole was back then.
I'm sure that the last time we came to the door, Mrs. Cole had even less of an idea that this would be the last time than we did. We knew about the shortcuts even if we weren't taking them yet and everybody was beginning to light up.
After that last Friday came the next Friday folowed by three thousand twenty four more.
I wonder if Mrs. Cole was alarmed when we didn't show up on that first last Friday. Did she worry that somwething might have happened to us. What did she do with her cookies.
How many Fridays did she wait for us?
Was she sad?
Did she stop baking?
I never heard anybody mention Mrs. Cole as if her kindness never happened.
She became less than a memory until last week.
Now she's part of a story
A big part.
- Log in to post comments
Comments
Loved this, simple, true.
Loved this, simple, true. Found myself swept along on the nostalgia and wondering about the answers to all those questions. :)
- Log in to post comments
This well-written and
This well-written and thoughtful walk down memory lane is our Pick of the Day. Do share on social media if you have access to such things.
(Ice rivers - feel free to change the image if you want to. It's from here: https://commons.m.wikimedia.org/wiki/Category:Chocolate_chip_cookies
- Log in to post comments
What a wonderful story -
What a wonderful story - brilliant pick - congratulations!
- Log in to post comments
Story of the Week
This wonderful tale is our Story of the Week - congratulations!
- Log in to post comments
memory is a tricky beast to
memory is a tricky beast to ride. Enjoyed the journey. Who knows where Mrs Cole gets off and the narrator gets on.
- Log in to post comments
cookies of love
Cookies made with love. Given with love. Resurrect memories of love, smiles and happiness. Simple, pure, soul warming. A kind of blind love given, and the smiles as they were eaten. With that said; I confess I was immersed in reading this as a forever dedicated home made chocolate chip cookie fan. (Hand-up, it makes me bias).. Oh-ya... and I can taste that picture too..... It deserves a story of the week posting, podium position. And I had to read it again while eating a Chocolate Chip Cookie... with a glass of milk...... Ok, maybe 2 or 3... cookies and re-reads.....
- Log in to post comments
I absolutely loved your story
I absolutely loved your story. You gave your characters such substanence in short course. They leaped off the page with life.
thank you Ice Rivers. Marcia
- Log in to post comments