I remember the old days.  I remember when I used to be in my teen years, working at the bar and looking at the attractive women that would come in and out throughout the day.  But there was one special girl that stood out above everyone else.  She left a special mark in my memory, and looking at the woman across the table reminded me of her.

It was on the morning of March 23, 1937.  I was working my shift at the bar, casually cleaning the desks, washing the dishes, and serving drinks.  Suddenly, a stunning woman wearing a red dress and matching red shoes walked in the door.  She seemed to illuminate everything surrounding her.  Every set of eyes turned to the door and followed her to her seat at the bar, where I was working.

The woman took her seat and made herself comfortable.  She then grabbed one of the menus.  I noticed her red nail polish.

“Shirley Temple with a cherry on top,” she ordered.

“Coming right up,” I replied.  She seemed to treasure everything that had to do with red.

While I was making the soda, I stared at her.  She had smooth and silky golden brown hair, with blue eyes beautiful and glowing as the moon itself.  She had a perfectly shaped nose with plump lips layered with just the right amount of red lipstick.

“Excuse me?  Can you stop staring at me and make my Shirley Temple?” she said.

“Sorry, I was just daydreaming.  Here you go miss.”

She grabbed the glass cup and slurped the drink slowly through the straw.  She seemed to enjoy every minute of it, because she asked for another one after.

“Make it the same way you did last time please,” she asked.

For the first time, I felt happy that somebody enjoyed how I made soda.  I gladly made her another one.

“You’re new around here, aren’t you?  I’ve never seen you before,” she said.

“Well, tomorrow will be my fourth month,” I replied, nervously.

“You’re doing good kid, keep it up.  Your Shirley Temples taste really good.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“Maybe I’ll see you around sometime?”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“Well, I got to go.  See you around,” she winked and left.

So here I am in this shop, remembering the glamorous woman who had walked past these doors 35 years ago.  She left a memory in my mind, and a sense of nostalgia for my childhood. 

Suddenly, an enchanting young woman wearing a blue dress with matching blue shoes walks in.

“Shirley Temple with a blueberry on top,” she ordered.

“Coming right up,” the young bartender replied.