Bobwhites and Roller Rings

Only Child girl's parents rented the cutest summer cottage just blocks from the sugary white sand of Myrtle Beach. Breakfasts barely eaten we bicycled, towels wrapped around our necks, inflatables flapping behind us as we held them by their ropes, peddling as though the beach wouldn't be there if we didn't hurry. Body surfing and handstands in the water, drifting lazily with the current far down the shore, slowly walking back to lay on our towels and read. With the changing of the tide, we slowly peddled home. Revival cold showers in outdoor bath house, our favorite part of the day just beginning.

Two dollars for two hours of roller skating heaven on smooth as ice varnished wooden flooring, Golden Oldies background for our lighthearted mood. A local hangout for the small community, boys hoping to skate with girls who weren't their sisters. We couldn't wait for the lights to dim and the silver faceted ball to begin casting squares of color in an endless circle. "Couples only." The announcer's voice floated above our heads. Hearts on our sleeves we pretended we weren't interested all the while hoping for a tap on the shoulder.  Beautiful Only Girl was always asked to skate. It was enough for me to live through her excitement and keep hopeful for the next time we came to skate.

 End of summer, beginning of fall, roller skates forgotten as ice skates where rented. An ice rink nestled in a valley of pine trees. A tap on the shoulder, "Couples Only" skate, a man who would become my husband.

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