A Cup of Childhood

It was one of the first nice days of Spring yesterday and some neighbor children decided to have a lemonade stand. I couldn't resist stopping over for a glass as I remembered many years ago when my daughter had a stand of her own. I wrote about her first business venture at the time and thought I'd share that essay with you. This was actually also published in an anthology of short stories about growing up in the Midwest called "Walking Beans Wasn't Something You Did With Your Dog" (don't blame me for the title.) Anyway, following is the story of Mollie's lemonade stand. Maybe sometime this summer you will take the opportunity to stop for just a moment, savor a cup of lemonade, and relive some nice memories from long ago...

A Cup of Childhood

"Can we PLEASE have a lemonade stand" my daughter, Mollie and her friend, Ashley, beg me in those mournful tones that only five-year-olds can truly master. Their faces are flushed pink from playing outside in the muggy afternoon heat. As their pleas hang in the air, I run through in my mind all the reasons I don't want them to have a lemonade stand: I would have to make the lemonade, I would have to set up the stand, make the sign, sit and help them try to sell their lemonade, and finally, I really didn't believe anyone would even stop to buy a glass. But their wide eyes, filled with simple hope, outweigh my objections. I finally agree, "Yes, I'll help you set up a lemonade stand."

Their excitement is contagious, and soon we're all having a good time making the lemonade, setting up the stand, and determining how much to charge for each glass. Like most five-year-olds, they have no concept of money, so they determine that we should charge "a nickel, a quarter, or whatever money they've got!" I've become more relaxed by this point, and this sounds like a good plan to me too.

We bring the pitcher of ice-cold, pink lemonade out into the front yard and set it up on a small red table where the girls are planning to make their fortune. They fill Dixie cups in preparation for their future customers. Some of my grown up worries creep in and I warn them not to fill too many cups. In the back of my mind, I fear they may not sell any. The lemonade stand is set up and Mollie and Ashley are ready for the world. As I settle onto my lawn chair in the shade, I'm already thinking about how I'll try to make them feel better if their lemonade stand turns out to be a failure.

But Mollie and Ashley are not prepared to fail...

But Mollie and Ashley are not prepared to fail. They begin hawking their lemonade like experienced carnivaliers: "Get your lemonade here! Fresh lemonade! Only costs a nickel, or a quarter, or whatever you've got!" they yell to cars driving past, people walking their dogs, bicyclists out for an early evening ride, neighbors, anyone within earshot.

And then something incredible happens - their first customer. Our neighbor walks across the lawn to purchase a cup of lemonade. The girls are thrilled! They give her a cup, take her money and thank her, and then watch with matching happy grins as their first customer enjoys her glass of lemonade.

No sooner does our neighbor finish her glass and return home, then another neighbor appears, and then some neighbor children. People who appear to be on their way somewhere else - maybe to the grocery store, or home for dinner after a long day's work - pull their cars over to the side of the road, get out and buy lemonade. Some buy a glass, some buy several...and not a one of them pays only a nickel.

As I watch all this activity, I notice that not only are the kids having a wonderful time with their first taste of "business" but the adults who stop for a moment are also having a wonderful time enjoying their cup of childhood. Everyone who comes to the stand does so with a smile and an open heart. They drink their lemonade as if they'd never before tasted such fine nectar. Some even give business advice to the girls "You need to charge much more than a nickel!"  Some are quiet as they drink. Perhaps they're remembering their own childhood. Maybe they're thinking about other hot, summer evenings long ago, when they had a lemonade stand and they dreamed about all the possibilities open to them.

Everyone leaves feeling good.

The pitcher of lemonade empties. Most is sold. Some is spilled. And some is enjoyed by Mollie and Ashley. I begin to feel a bit sad that all the fun is ending. I'd been enjoying the good feelings around the lemonade stand.

I realized that my daughter and her friend shared more than lemonade that evening. They shared a bit of common humanity. They gave people who may not even have been thirsty an opportunity to stop for just a moment, to savor a cup of lemonade, and to relive some nice memories from long ago.