Earnest Elephant #2

He used to bounce me on his knees when he told me his stories. His great adventures in the great orange truck with electrical tape apholstered seats stealing lunch meats from grocery stores and jackhammers from construction sites. We'd take a walk around the market, ending up at an Italian restaurant that seemed more like a diner, with plastic sparkling red booths and stools and silver edged tables. As I slurped my spaghetti and scoffed my meatballs, he grinned at my "sugu" covered face thinking he was showing his little girl off. But staring up at his balding head, like a sun between two clouds of white hair, I knew that he was sadly mistaken; I was the one showing him off. He was my best friend, and when we were finished eating, we'd walk the market again.

We'd approach my favorite fruit and vegetable stand and I'd jump to climb my way to the top. Past the juicy strawberries and plump tomatoes to the top of the rickety wooden boxes to the top of the mountain. A five-year old princess at the top of her castle and two wise wrinkled hands pick me up by the waist and spin me down. The freedom of the air through my hair and a dizzy tummy makes my spirit soar. Oh how I miss summers with Papa and Uncle Joe.

Years later, I sit around an old table, slurping on a beverage instead of spaghetti with a smile-covered face, recognizing the mischevious twinkle and sagelike personality in my friends. Friends, family, fun, and freedom are the keys to my happiness.