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By Blue Bell's Creek

At the footbridge back in the mid-eighties is where I grew to know the beauty of all things life had to offer. There I was, only six years old. Young enough to get in trouble yet old enough to know better. Mother Nature had led a creek under the footbridge, it carried such a flow during the dog days of summer, our family held such an honorable and deep heritage, my father was an intense determined morning runner. He would run to and fro and back and forth to the cabin, I would watch while catching frogs and white butterflies, little Joey would always make believe a ship, him as captain, and big sister me would always make sure to supervise. We’d have potato races with our cousins on my mom’s side, uncomfortable burlap sac’s rubbing up against our body, my friend JoAnne would always act like a baby and hide, I would hear nothing but barking all day from our dog Doddie. We’d barbecue cod that was caught down by Blue Bell’s River, mama would always simmer her wonderful green beans, even after swimming in the heat I always got out with a shiver, we loved playing Marco Polo with what seemed to be unfair teams. Childhood memories relinquish good times to always remember, family seems to always bring out the best in every one, I mostly hated when time passed and it would be September, those days by the footbridge were so remarkably fun. Date Written: July 25, 2016