We lived on the second floor of a triplex on a busy street in Montreal with cars and streetcars and the occasional horse, although the horses usually travelled the laneways delivering ice blocks and collecting rags. Wide sidewalks allowed mothers to safely push baby carriages while admonishing the older children to stay close. It was a moving picture show and I was 3 ½ and it was summer and it was Saturday. The Saturday paper had a special Comic Section. My mother would put out my rocking chair on the front balcony and I would rifle through to Superman. I couldn’t read yet, but that Comic Section would keep me enthralled for most of the morning with the occasional street distraction.
My sister who was 5 ½ years older than me moaned that I spent too long monopolizing the comics. “She can’t read. They’re wasted on her!”
“Maybe she will want to learn,” my mother would reply. I never gave my mother enough credit for her everyday wisd om.
Pomegranates, for instance: How long would you guess a pomegranate could mesmerize a three-year-old? Long enough to hang the laundry out on the line if it was Monday? Or, do the ironing if it was Tuesday?
To this day, I love reading and people-watching, rocking and pomegranates. I have a glider on my back porch where I can espy the comings and goings of birds at the feeders, chipmunks chasing each other and the occasional hesitant rabbit. The front porch offers up people walking hand-in-hand, or walking their dogs, and runners preparing for that lOK.
All that beautiful living encircling me, supporting me, encouraging me – TO DO A LITTLE MORE GARDENING!
Aah, but then there was that red velvet dress….
Our next-door neighbour was “ma Tante Jeanette”. We weren’t related but my mother didn’t believe children should call adults by their first names and since I was unable to pronounce her family name, this was my mother’s compromise.
Tante Jeanette spoke English but she and my mother spoke French when they didn’t want me to understand their conversation. (Adt.tltA,bewwte,!) She could also sew and mother wanted to learn. So, afternoons for the next few weeks were spent next door. I played on the floor while they went about sewing on the kitchen table. One day they put pieces of the dress to my body telling me that the dress they were sewing was for Tante Jeanette’s niece and she was about my size.
I loved the feel of the velvet. It was a deep crimson. I thought it was beyond beautiful and I wished it were for me. At times I thought their
conversations suspicious, that the dress might actually be for me, but my mother convinced me it was not.
My birthday is October 24t h and the day finally came. I was turning 4 and was incredibly excited. My mother made me a double decker cake with fluffy icing. It had four pink candles plus 1 for good luck. Then she presented me with a large box to open. It looked familiar, like the box with the red velvet dress that was sent to Tante Jeanette’s niece. Was it? Yes! I can still remember how hard my heart was pounding and then that moment of panic – I could be wrong. I removed the tissue paper only to uncover the most precious dress in the world !
I was right! I understood French! I promised myself I would listen more attentively in future. Yes, adults beware of precocious little minds!