Paradise Lost

In a simpler time, teen-aged girls would volunteer to help out at hospitals and nursing homes. They wore red and white striped uniforms, hence the name ‘candy striper’. They didn’t get paid, I guess it was sort of a pre-nursing thing to do.

At any rate, I was heading home from an errand downtown one day, and boarded the #8 bus. On it was my older sister, a college student, who was coming home for the week-end. I nodded to her and went to sit in the back (when you were 15, you ALWAYS sat in the back although I don’t know why) and then I saw her. A vivacious girl, about my age, brunette with tight (natural?) curls, inviting blue eyes and freckles. She made eye contact and indicated with a toss of her head that I should sit down NEXT to her. We evidently talked, I probably just said “ah - ah -ah” but she kept looking at me as she continued talking and began to bounce in her seat. This behavior was beyond my understanding. I noticed that her posture was very tense, and her back had a definite arch to it. She asked where I was getting off. She said she only lived a few blocks further… would I like to come along with her?

At this point, about thirty million synapses in my pubescent brain were firing, smoldering and fusing in a huge, hormone-fueled meltdown. She was still bouncing. My stop came, my sister was exiting the rear door just in front of us, should I go? Should I stay? Go? Stay? Go? Stay? My sister opened the rear door...

I went.

Later on, at supper, my sister said: “Who was that girl on the bus?”

“Oh, it was only a candy striper… ”