Some Women Dream Things That Never Were and Ask, “Why Not?”
June was my first date.
In a trishaw, that is.
Sat up front during my first presentation.
First to say: “Let’s ride.”
Wore a sweater with seagulls.
Drafted her many times since our first flight in the parking lot.
Told me her father wouldn’t let her get a driver’s license.
“Because I was a girl.
“So I went out and got my pilot’s license instead.
“Flew all over the country.
“Barnstorming.
“My husband was a pilot too.
“We were living in South America and he died in a plane crash.
“Airline asked what they could do.
“Told them I wanted three plane tickets to Europe and a VW bus for us waiting there.
“Drove all over Europe with my girls.”
“Used to be an English teacher, but became a librarian so I could be home when the girls came home from school.”
June was losing her sense of taste, but said she loved textures like . . .
frosting on cupcakes . . .
the juice of fresh strawberries . . .
the love of homebaked cookies.
Dressed up like Pocahontas one Halloween.
Told her she looked like Elizabeth Warren.
She winked.
On one of our Goleta Beach picnics, she told me she had been to Antarctica when she was in her eighties.
“In your eighties?” I said.
“And why not in my eighties, young man?!!!”
Liked it when I leaned down and told her stories.
She said I made her laugh.
June loved to laugh.
June took off from earth for the last time last week.
Gonna miss her.
Hope they got VW busses in heaven.
Maybe she can give her father a ride.
Thanks for the flying lessons, June.
