A Piece of Writing From Earlier This Year

I have no place for this little essay I drafted back in March, and it's certainly not worthy of submitting anywhere. I know I wanted to update this ol' writing blog more in 2016, but life happened. Nonetheless, I am happy life happened.

I am hoping 2016 closes on a strong note, and 2017 is spectacular. Not just for me, but for all of us.

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When I was a little girl, I encountered an older girl. At the time, she seemed so sophisticated and worldly to me. But this was the time of my life everything towered over me, and it wasn’t difficult to impress yourself upon my clay-like psyche.

She had a book with her. We were at an elementary school ice cream social, and I was sitting with her, tucked closely together at one of those cold, foldable lunch tables. She spoke to me in a sweet voice, and I remember not what she said, but just the sound of it. It was like honey. At the time, I didn’t know what was really happening. I didn’t know what sort of buds of emotion I was experiencing. They seemed strange, but warm. A nice, welcome strange. I didn’t realize how much this emotion would haunt me and cause me extraordinary pain the rest of my life.

I was enchanted with the way she treated me and the book – that children’s book with the hodge-podge of bouncy, glowy spheres with names like “Mr. So-and-So” and “Miss BlahBlahBlah.” She had these white hands, and I remember she explained to me each picture. I nodded my head furiously and said little. I had a crush, but I didn’t know it then. I did know, though, I didn’t want her to leave the table when she got up and left with her parents.

Several years later – many years later, let’s be frank – I met another girl. An older girl. A woman, if we were to really be precise about it. Not to sound weird, but there’s a difference between a woman and a girl. I am probably a girl; she was, without any singular doubt in my skull, a woman. She was older, more experienced, and worldly. She explained things to me – and not in any way to make me feel like I was special or I stood out from the rest, but I didn’t really want that. I just wanted to be around her, and I knew I’d be sad when she walked into her car and I watched her leave.