It would be during the summer months of nice and beautiful sunny weather, early in the morning, when an elder neighbor who lived four doors down from me toward the corner house, would call me over to his home to share the finest quality chocolate candy with me.
I’d walk my seven, eight, or nine year old body over inside of his gate to sit on the stoop across from him and we’d both eat a delicious chunk of thick chocolate bars that he’d generously offer to me from time to time.
I was the only child on our block who he would do this with, and the occurrence was always totally innocent.
He fortunately wasn’t a dirty old man.
He never spoke or tried anything out of the way with me. He never invited me inside of his home we’d just hang outside for a few minutes to eat chocolate and talk.
Then, I’d be on my way to play.
He was just a nice old man who viewed me as a good little girl and I thought his gestures were altogether very kind.
Each time he’d call me over to share candy I’d go back and tell my mom later on within the day.
She thought the gestures were nice and cute too.
His name was Mr Monroe and it was in the early eighties when growing up as a child was better and more exciting compared to growing up now within this day and age.