The lemonade man

I saw some old style lemonade bottles in a local shop today.

It made me quite wistful. Memories of the lemonade man. Ten bottles every second Tuesday.

The memories of youth. Brown lemonade. White lemonade. Raspberryade. Cloudy Lime. American Cola.

Drinking it straight from the bottle after an afternoon spent picking blackberries. Our legs stinging from nettle stings and briar scrapes.

I held a bottle in my hand. I hadn’t seen one in a while. I examined it.

Then I read the ingredients on the back of the label….

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s