THE IRON ON T-SHIRT STORE BY THE INTERSECTION NEAR THE PIER THE SMELL THERE, HEAVENLY, MINGLED WITH THE SUN

The sun was so bright that day that it felt as if, by the warmth it laid right into the cotton of your shirt shoulders, the strand of your hair, and other,- that it followed you into the store or eateries. The sun. Yes. And then, up by where the pier was, or rather up from it, - was a little store in the middle of other stores. I was only ten, and my mother brought me in there at my request. I thought, - all these t-shirts- it was a time when iron on t-shirts were all the rage, and almost everybody had to have one that I knew. You could pick the size, color, style of shirt, and have them iron on- anything that was in the book or emblems. In there was a world of pages that included pictures as diverse as heavy metal rock bands to flowers and fairies. I looked at them all, and tried to choose what I wanted. I stopped at the coolest, most off-the-hook interesting picture of them all at the time- it was on a black background instead of the regular white- and it was a skull- there were snakes crawling out of the eyes, the ears, and so on. - Its shades were so nuanced, - so skillfully drawn, - not like some cartoon or half hearted or half talented idea. - No- this was cool, and I would be the coolest ever! I would be like, - ‘one’ with my sort of acceptably ‘evil’ T-shirt. 

But my mother spotted me looking at it and as mothers do through practical experience and some other form of Gnostic wisdom, unfortunately I guess, beyond all the woo-woo and foo-foo new age talk in the world,- have this knowledge in spades…

One look was all it took. Then I heard the words, borderline yelling in order to show she meant business,

IF YOU THINK YOU ARE GOING TO WEAR THAT, YOU ARE THINKING WRONG. THERE IS NO WAY I AM BUYING YOU A SHIRT WITH A SKULL AND SNAKES SO YOU BETTER NOT EVEN THINK OF THAT ONE.

So I chose something else, and I can’t remember what. I still don’t think the first choice would have been so bad, but it there you have it.

In any event, that was only half of it- I am sure I liked the shirt, whatever was chosen- but it was some wonderful smell, or neutral smell of the iron ons, the fresh shirts,- and an association was made with that place and time- w/the sand and the sea, the pier racing out to try and meet the horizon line, with the affinity I had with the days, the nights,- the lawns, the stucco walls, the small lizards and ants,- screen doors, whitecaps of waves in the eyesight,- even the other stores when they were walked into. And the Atlantic, still there at this moment, brings its tides to caress the sand, but I am not there, - I am here.

I am only there in the mostly dim light and longing of memory. 

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