Seventeen through thirty-three, dressed to the teeth with sheaths and crystal necklaces through the fifteen-inch skirts and six-inch platform shoes. Off to the country then, raising corn and okra, cats and dogs and pigs. Bikinis in the garden, sometimes just a half when summer sun shines hot, I wore a hat instead. Autumn turns to denim jeans, plaid flannel leaves in every other color.
Rebellion of a child in middle age. Laughing at the crystal. And yet, who am I now?
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology