I Loved Lucyop

1251973651_frog-scratching

When I met Lucy, it was love at first site.  Not romantic love, but the best kind, true friend love.  A freckled, barefoot girl, Lucy’s hands were covered in warts.  Everybody knew you got warts from playing with frogs.  I played with frogs every chance I got, but so far had not been able to acquire the warts I coveted.

Naturally, I had to ask, “How’d you git them warts?”  I always took the subtle approach.

“How do you think?  From playin’ with frogs, Dummy.  Frogs’ backs is covered with warts.”  My admiration grew exponentially, a girl who liked frogs and wasn’t afraid to say “pee” without looking around to make sure her mama couldn’t hear.  I had a hard life.  My own mother made us say “wee wee” and swore she’d know if we EVER said “pee.”  “Pee” was vulgar.  I’d had my behind paddled more than once for getting caught.

“You got any frogs now?  I want to see them warts.” I had to know. 

“Sure.  There’s always some at the creek.”  She took off with me following.  Wading in, we were soon rich in frogs. Catching a couple, we examined them, finding their backs splendidly populated with warts.

We passed an idyllic afternoon with those frogs in the cool creek.I still remember the feel of those scratchy warts on my fingers. Tadpoles frolicked joyously in shady pools, just out of our reach. Wet and muddy to the waist, I that day I knew perfect joy. Time stood still. Long before I’d had my fill of warty frog fun, Mother called out saying it was time to go, but not before I slipped a couple of frogs in my pocket.

“Oh no!  I gotta go, already.” I whined.

“That’s okay.  Next time you come back, we’ll git you a snake.” She promised.

I got the snake, but never did get my warts.

22 thoughts on “I Loved Lucyop”

  1. Oh I am not too keen on frogs, yet I had a wart on my thumb when I was younger! It didn’t last long thoough.
    We had to say ‘wee-wee’ too when I was younger and many people my age still say ‘wee’ (just once now we are adults)!!!
    Also,all privates were ‘bottom’ back, front, girls and boys!!!

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  4. My mother was more like you. I, on the other hand, somehow could play with a friend who got dirty while I stayed clean. She could never figure it out. My mother gave us both a bath one day and said even my friend’s head was dirty. Her mother was clean so my friend got that way playing. :D — Suzanne

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    • I remember sitting in the dirt pouring sand in my hair because it felt so cool. I still get dirty. My mother can wear white and stay clean working in the yard. Three of her kids are clean like her, then there’s me and one messy sister. We get dirty just walking.

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