Peach Tree Tea by Selma MaCarthy The summer of 1937 was a magical one for me. I thought the world was my oyster. During the long, hot summer, the older kids in our neighborhood went swimming in Freize's pond every afternoon. It was heavenly, cooling off in the clear, cool water. The sandy beach was great for sunning and socializing. I can still smell the summer breeze that swept over the pond, making little ripples as it kissed the willing water. Those were happy, carefree days that gladdened our hearts and bonded friendships. Some of the kids brought inner tubes and floated on the pond, paddling with their hands. We didn't have a car, so I didn't have an inner tube. I felt lucky to have a hand-me-down swimsuit. We were dirt poor, but I didn't care. I was happy with simple pleasures that didn't cost a penny. Harold Turner had an inner tube. He floated all over the pond. Sometimes he would let me use it for awhile. I thought this was wonderful. He was probably the nicest boy in our neighborhood--except for my first love, Kennie. One hot afternoon I was anxious to get to the pond to swim, but my mother had walked downtown to look for fall school clothes for me. She didn't have much money, but dresses were just 69 cents in J.C. Penney's basement. Even so, that was a goodly sum back then. I grew tired of waiting for her to return. I decided to leave her a note and head for the pond with my good friend, Virginia Bowers. We were having a super good time playing water tag and flirting with the boys. Harold was floating around on his inner tube. Kennie was there, too. I was in hog heaven, splashing around, watching my handsome sweetheart. I can still see his flashing blue eyes and that beautiful smile that showed his gleaming white teeth. Somehow, the sun turned his honey-colored hair to gold. I was just entranced with him. I've never been in love with anyone the way I was with him--it was just magical. Everything was going great until I looked up and saw my mother standing on the shore with a switch in her hand and a stern look on her face. I knew that I was in trouble. I climbed out of the water and ran over to her. "Selma, you know you're not supposed to go swimming without permission, don't you?" "Yes, Mother," I said, starting to sniff, hoping I would get her sympathy and avoid a switching. I failed on both fronts; I got a healthy dose of the "peach tree tea." I ran for home through the cornfield, jumping over the short cornstalks, with Mother and the switch right behind me. Hot tears rolled down my cheeks. I must have been a funny-looking sight as I hopped along, trying to dodge the switch and cornstalks. The loud guffaws from the pond only added to my misery. Harold told me later that he nearly drowned laughing. When Mother and I finally reached home, she said she hoped I had learned my lesson. I had, and I still remember my embarrassment. But I would give anything to go back and relive those wonderful days. My sweet memories remain, though sometimes they are bittersweet. Maybe the good Lord will bless me with a few of those magical days in the hereafter.