Flower in my hair – Theme Friday

I was wearing a flower in my hair the night I fell in love for the first time. I, in my Audrey Hepburn yellow dress and brand new shoes. He, tall and blue-eyed – and oh-so-handsome. Everyone said I looked older than my fourteen years. And maybe I did with my french twisted hair, tucked with a yellow rose – my rouged lips and mascara’d lashes.

The big hall echoed with country songs, mumbles and shuffling feet. And I didn’t know where to put my eyes or rest my hands. What to say or how to act. So shy was I that I was there to watch as everyone else had fun. My hormones wouldn’t let me smile or feel at ease.

But there he was, hand outstretched. Smiling. “Me?” He took my hand and I floated to my feet. My lock-kneed legs followed his lead and I didn’t dare look at him or else I might die on the spot. I kept my flushed face poised to the floor. He talked and I listened. And then the dance ended.

Where did Christine’s flower lead?
What flowers are in Clancy’s hair?

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5 thoughts on “Flower in my hair – Theme Friday

  1. I wasn’t ready for the dance to end! You managed to create a sense of expectation mirroring that of our narrator, and leave us wondering “What happened!” We’ve all felt as awkward as our girl in yellow, and we can all recognize ourselves in her. Good work, Annie.

    Hey Clancy,
    I wasn’t ready for the dance to end either. And yet it did. Teenage awkward moments, are only beautiful in retrospect though, eh?

    Love
    Annie

    Like

  2. The end of the dance stunned me, but I liked that feeling. It is that hopeful feeling we get- expecting so much! So often, the dance is just that- a lovely dance. Then it ends and then?

    Perhaps we take our seat? Maybe there is another dance? Maybe. Hopefully. I hope that’s what this speaker does for the rest of the evening- dance and dance.

    I feel the anxiety of the young speaker, the innocence, the expectation. That’s good writing, I think. When the reader feels as if she could’ve told the story herself.

    Hey Chica,
    It kind of stunned me too. I had more to tell but then the telling of the more wasn’t the point, I think. Because my pen just stopped and told me I’d reached the end.

    Love
    Annie

    Like

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