Lemons and Limes

Chapter One : Ms. Winters in the Summer

Lemons and Limes

By : Veronica Tanner

Chapter One : Ms. Winters in the Summer

Everyone says that life gives you lemons. But what happens when it starts pouring limes?

I wonder if I was an adult, whether or not I would react like Ms. Winters. Ms. Winters lives across the street, she's a bit elderly but she's very very nice. Sometimes my mom let's her watch me and we chat about nonsensical things and make cookies. Ms. Winters makes very very good cookies.

I suppose the reason we're really good friends is because of the irony in our names. Her last name is Winters and mine is Summers. I remember meeting her. Although the memory is a bit fuzzy. But then again I was only two. What else could you really expect.

But this is not about how I met Ms. Winters. Not really anyway. I suppose I'll talk about her, but I'm getting off topic. I was talking about it raining green fruit.

What would you do if it was raining limes?

Ms. Winters likes to make things, especially drinks and food. She would probably take a large bag and just catch them to make limeade. But limeade is really only good with flavoring. Like the cherry limeade you can get at Sonic. But I don't really like that either.

It's Summer now. Most people think that Summer is my favorite season because of my last name. And Summer is pretty cool, getting off of school and all. But I actually much prefer Fall. Autumn really. Ronnie refuses to call it Fall; she says Autumn describes it better.

I told her once that Autumn was my favorite season because of how pretty the colors are. The way the leaves fall too. She smiled and told me what she liked about Fall.

"You wake up to crisp air that takes the sleep out of your eyes. It's chilly but not quite Winter yet. You are right; the leaves and colors of Autumn are spectacular. But you have to think about it. Have you ever smelled Autumn air?" she had asked me. I took in a deep breath and then nodded.

Ronnie laughed. Ronnie loved to laugh. And if she was okay now she still would.

"Yes," I began with a smile, "it smells.... Well it's hard to describe it really," I said cautiously. She continued to grin happily at me.

"It smells like leaves doesn't it? And fresh rain? And like those sweet things that only happen in Autumn. All those family get-togethers, cooking, food, love, and preparation for Winter. Is that what it smells like to you?"

I nodded again.

"Same here."

Ronnie has a way with words.

"Florescent," she'd say, "the leaves are so florescent."

She always taught me what her words meant.

'Its her skill,' my brothers say. I know it's true. Ronnie uses words now. She doesn't talk though. Not since the accident.

No one can feel the same anymore. Ronnie loved, still does, to sing. She loved to talk when people actually wanted to listen. But now she said nothing. She wants to though. But she can't.

Everyone talks about Ronnie. Everyone misses her very much. I miss her most of all. Except her family, but that doesn't count. My brothers miss her too. Ronnie isn't my sister. Not exactly.

Once, after the accident, my eldest brother, Andy, was talking with his high school friends.

"I miss Ronnie," he began sadly. He was more broken then any of us, "I hope. I hope she gets her voice back. She's like family to me. To all of us really," he couldn't continue. His eyes were watery. He looked at his hands.