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Wild Blueberries
I love blueberries. In fact, I just finished a blueberry, strawberry, and banana smoothie. It never gets old. Pretty sure my obsession with blueberries started when I was a small child in Slidell.
Well, I know it did.
Slidel, Lousiana, many years ago.
Even though Dad had this fancy secret NASA contract working out of the local Chrysler plant, we were forever broke. The six of us squeezed into a small house on stilts in a swamp on the far eastern side of town.
Half the year, the only way to leave the swamp was by airboat. We were isolated and remote. Only Dad left for work. Momma, my brothers, sister, and I stayed and went a little stir-crazy.
I remember him with distinct clarity, a little Creole boy who lived close by somewhere in the woods with his family. He was my age, about 5, as dark as I was light. He was my primary playmate and pal. I was the youngest in my family, quiet and shy. Alphé was a whirl of activity, headstrong but kind and gentle. Because I spent so much time with him, I sounded more Creole than my own family’s odd mixture of German and Italian.
I was the best child, so I’ve been told. An angel — except for this problem with blueberries. Now, you have to understand, there are all sorts of dangerous creatures living in a swamp. Gators, of course, who can eat a baby in a snap. But also snakes, spiders, biting bugs, crawdaddies, as well as raccoons, opossums, muskrats, and swamp rats. And not just creatures, there were poisonous plants, all manner of scratchy and prickly things.
My Mother carved out a safe space in the yard for us to play. I understood and abided by the rules. I was to stay within her eyesight from the kitchen window when out playing with Alphé. He would just appear out of nowhere, it seemed. My mother would say I lit up like a firefly when he did.
One day when my Mom’s face disappeared from the window, Alphé seized the moment. He grabbed my hand, assuring me there was this amazing place in the woods he wanted to show me. It was his own private, special place. “Vini non, Cher,” he said with the widest smile, his big brown eyes sparkling with adventure.
I was confounded. What could I do as he dragged me toward the edge of our yard? I looked to the kitchen window…
