by Irene Davault

Created on: September 07, 2010

I was fourteen and in my last year of Junior High.  I lived with my grandmother on a small farm in white county, Tennessee.  Grandma called me her little June bug, but my real name is Amie Ann.  I am tall and on the skinny side, but my body is starting to fill out in all the right places.  Grandma was constantly reminding me to act like the young woman I was becoming, but I still liked to run around the countryside; and wade in the cool creek that ran the length of the farm.  The creek was almost a dividing line between our farm and the farm Billy Joe lived on.  He was in his last year at the high school and did not know I existed.  I thought he was a dream.  He was tall, tanned from summer farm work; he had dark brown hair and sky-blue eyes.  

Almost everyday during summer I would wade across the creek and sit on the fence beneath the cotton wood tree near the Creek's bank, there I would watch Billy Joe on the old green tractor, plowing fields.  Grandma thought I was wasting my time, but I thought that hour was the best part of my day.  I just wished he would notice me; I was too shy to say anything to get his attention; I just watched him and pretended he knew I was there.

“June bug”, grandma shouted, “We need to go into town for some supplies.  I need you to go and help me carry them to the truck”.  “Great grandma”, I exclaimed, and then added, “Maybe we can get some ice cream at the soda shop”.  “Maybe“, grandma said as she smiled.

Weekends were always busy in town and it seems everyone had the same idea about having ice cream.  We walked into the soda shop and there he was, Billy Joe, eating ice cream.  I could feel my face warming as the blood rushed to it, all the time hoping he would not notice me; but he did.  I smiled at him as we sat down on the stools next to him.

“How are you doing, Billy Joe”, grandma blurted out?  “Fine thanks“, he replied, giving her a big grin.  I sat there wanting to say something, but nothing came out.  I could have kicked myself, my chance of getting to talk to him near zilch.

Summer ended all too soon and once again, we were in school.  My summer trips to the oak tree also ended.  I thought why I could not have been old enough to go to high school.  I did not see Billy Joe anymore that year.

Winter was cold and I was so glad spring

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