Tessa Elizabeth Scandizzo 
A creative writing
The lazy summer days with Dahlia… those were the best days in Vicksburg…
One day, we wanted to catch a tan, so we slathered ourselves in Crisco and laid on a trampoline for hours under the hot Mississippi sun. It never crossed our minds that time could be wasted or that our skin would burn against the black plastic holding us off the ground.
That was the day before I drove to her house. There she was, perched in a lawn chair in the backyard. She was wearing flannel pink donut pajamas and one of those floppy fur hats like the one Ernest would wear in the movies.
I heard a loud “shuck shuck!” as she cocked back a BB rifle. I didn’t even have to ask her what she was doing before she made the announcement: “WE’RE HUNTIN’ SQUIRRELS TODAY! YEE HOO!”
Dahlia had a thing about squirrels. One time, when she was little, a squirrel stole her bagel at the park and threw it at her head. It was a core memory she would never forget. It would take a lifetime of squirrel hunting to square up once and for all.
“You’re doing what??” I asked. She squinted her eye against the tree line, and with another click, a BB went flying through the air. Squirrels in the trees scampered, and she let out a gleeful cackle. “You better run!” she hollered.
I sat with her, taking in her quirkiness, loving everything about it. I didn’t believe she’d ever get herself a squirrel. However, the amusement of the endeavor gave me a thrill. I watched her cock and click that BB gun over and over, each time letting out a cry of joy.
Normally, we would have long conversations about anything or everything, but today she was focused. After a while, I decided it was time for some drinks. I then bid adieu and headed off to the gas station to grab us some colas.
When I pulled back into Dahlia’s driveway, I noticed the lawn chair in the yard was empty. A BB gun sat propped against it. “She must be inside,” I thought, as I opened the front door.
I was greeted with the sounds of sizzles and pops. The air was filled with the smell of hot oil. I peered around the corner, and my eyes went wide. Lo and behold, there was Dahlia in the kitchen with a big ol’ grin on her face, skinning a squirrel.
She’d already mixed up a good drench and some seasoning and had the grease boiling on the stove.
Both of us had a great love for animals. I couldn’t decide whether to be horrified or amazed, but all I could do was belly laugh. “We’re having squirrel for dinner!” she delighted.
“Oh my gosh, Dahlia! You actually did it!” I exclaimed. She just smiled and tended to her work. I asked her, “Have you ever even cooked a squirrel?” She replied, “Nope, but I will today!”
She held up a measly leg in the air and beamed at it like it was a great big diamond. After taking a minute to gloat to herself, she tossed the leg into some buttermilk. She then coated it in flour and quickly fried it up.
The leg sat there on a paper towel for a while before she picked it up. Tenderly, she offered it to me like she was handing me her firstborn baby. Her eyes glistened, and her teeth sparkled like pearls.
I smiled back and took it reluctantly, then stared at it for a moment. She lit up when I finally worked myself up to taking the first bite.
It wasn’t a very big mouthful of meat, and it was stringy, but it was well-seasoned. I chewed for a bit, offering a polite, “Mmm,” before I spat out two BBs into my hand. We just stared at each other before bursting out into laughter, clutching our sides.
I’ll never forget that.
The next day, we had all the time in the world to decide what we wanted to do.
We floated a little canoe out into a pond and tried to catch some fish. However, we ended up tipping the boat and swimming to shore in tears from laughing so hard.
I spent the best days in Vicksburg, Mississippi. The summers were hot, and the hours were slow. I never knew what we were going to get into next. I just always knew it was going to be fun.
Now the stories stay in my heart as cherished memories of growing up in Vicksburg.
Simplicity was a blessing, and southern fun was a gift… and squirrels are not as delicious as one might expect.
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About The Author
Kelley Branch 
JD Fogas 
Heart of Vicksburg Staff 
