I met my brother for lunch in between his classes. We went to a bakery that made sandwiches down the street because it was cheap and he had a crush on the girl who worked there. He’d told me about her a few times and when he did, he’d say things like, “she wears charm bracelets,” or, “she sews bags from old jeans.”
I convinced him he needed to make his move.
When we got there, she beat him to it.
“I really like your shirt,” she said.
Fuddled, he said, “Uhhh, yeah, thanks. I got it at Target.”
I looked at him, seriously?
He tried to correct himself, “Yeah. It cost $10.”
I think he still got her number.
Read Full Post »
Posted in short shorts, tagged dunes, journal, rain, sand, shirt, summer on September 25, 2009 |
1 Comment »
I told my mother not to worry and she never did, as mothers do, because these were big summer drops and our toes in the sand digging in deeper and deeper still. Her hemp sandals stayed at the bottom of the dunes, underneath a tree with her bag and leather journal, my shirt, too. The dunes dropped off quick on the other side, steep into the forest and we had rolled down hours before and spent the whole evening feeling the sand cool under us as the sun went down. Now it rained and rained more and we crept closer to the tree trunks to, well, not to stay dry, we certainly weren’t that, and not warm, as the drops were bath water, but we clang to the trunks none the less. The dune was easier to climb then now that the water had stiffened the sand some and we made our way up to the top with ease. She spread out her arms wide and I watched her and the lake as the waves picked up with the wind.
Read Full Post »