Spring Cleaning

The smell of paste floor wax drenched the air as I entered my house after first removing my saddle shoes.  The wood floors shined so that I could see my face reflected in their glow.  Sliding on the newly waxed floors, I noticed that the velvet drapes and wool carpets of winter had disappeared.  Spring had come and so had my grandmother and aunt, the spring cleaning brigade. Light from outside streamed through the freshly washed lace curtains.  Bright red and yellow slipcovers protected the living room chairs from our summer sweat.  Red floral print adorned the sofa. Walking across the straw carpet in my socks, the hard grass prickled the soles of my feet.

“Mother, I’m home,” I called as I threw down my red canvas book bag and my metal lunch box with Hopalong Cassidy in his black hat with his white horse, Topper.  My plastic thermos had leaked chocolate milk making the wax paper soggy that had previously wrapped my sandwich in neat folds.  The smell was nauseating after being closed since lunchtime.  My ankle socks had slipped down towards my heel, my plaid dress had ketchup stains from my ketchup sandwich, my hair was knotted, and my face was red from running as Mother swooped down to give me a hug.  Her short, white, wavy hair gleamed along with her smiling eyes.

          "Everything smells fresh and clean,” I exclaimed.

          “Yes, they all came today to help. Your aunt polished the furniture while your uncle and grandmother washed windows and I waxed the floor.  It does look nice.  Go change your clothes and go out and play while I make the dinner.”

      Rounding the corner of the house, I stopped.  The Japanese cherry tree was blooming.  I scampered to the tree and gazed upwards.  Feathery pink flowers floated in the air. Patches of deep blue sky filled the empty spots making the pink more vivid.  Touching the soft velvety petals, I sighed as I whirled around.  My tree had a big fork three feet up from the ground.  Reaching with my right leg, I put my tennis shoe into the fork and grabbing the limb, I hoisted my body into the tree.  Pink enveloped me.  I leaned back on the branches to soak it in.  Orange streaks from the bark covered my hands, shirt, and jeans.  I sat there soaking in spring.

Excerpt from The Plaid Robe

Book signing May 4 at His Way in Ellicott City