Bobwhite Boyfriend Crushes
If the Bobwhites weren't mooning over old movie stars, we were drooling over our school year books. Slumber party the last day of school was mandatory. Location - rec room floor of only child, fish tank glowing in the background. Sleeping bags arranged like wagon spokes. Pillows to the center, yearbooks on top. No peeking. We would drag out our ritual every year. This was serious business! Brownies had to be baked and cooled, Coke's on ice. Pretzels in big bowls, napkins to please the Mom. Slip between the zippers, pillows tucked under elbows. Open, inside cover. Squeals of delight and endless discussions over each and every syllable, the slant of the letters, the flourish of the name. Hopefully a boy name! Our entire summer would be planned around any boys we were lucky enough to get to sign our books. We may not have had cars, but we had bikes!
Endless summer days of riding our bikes past boy's houses that we each had crushes on. We would make enough noise to bring anyone out of their houses, but not the boys! The only time we ever saw them was if they were outside mowing the lawn or playing basket ball. Heads down, pedal faster, not enough nerve to stop. All summer long we thrilled ourselves with the possibility that one would look up and smile, or gasp, wave! And then one day, one did! "Hey, do you girls live around here? I see you ride past my house every single day." "UHHHH, we just like the exercise. Well, gotta go." He probably could hear us squealing all the way out of his neighborhood. This one hello kept us on cloud nine for the entire summer. Nothing more was needed. So simple were our days.