Who is this girl? Because the girl I knew:
Could outrun any boy. Could sit on him and make him holler uncle. Could raise a knot on his arm by socking him as she walked by.
Could shimmy up a tree in nothing flat. Was always out in front of the bike pack.
Sneaked across the highway to ride horses.
Came home from school with one sock down, one sock up, shoes scuffed, sash dragging the ground because one side was torn loose.
Could navigate monkey bars better and swing higher than any kid on the playground.
Was one of the boys, with skint knees and elbows and tangled hair pulled back in a ponytail.
Cut the hair off all the dolls. Threw Betsy Wetsy in the creek to see if she’d float. Dolls were stupid anyway.
After being stuck as a fortune teller one year at Halloween, the next year she demanded a cowboy outfit for Christmas.
“You mean cow girl? Like Dale Evans?”
“I mean cowBOY.”
And she got it, six shooters and all.
She was her father’s shadow and her brother’s sparring partner.
Then all of a sudden she was Haley Mills and Doris Day. Wearing pearls from her father and HEELS on her white pumps. She had a white satin dress from her mother and curled hair. She was fourteen and graduating from eighth grade.
On the floor is the symbol of the infantry’s motto, “Follow me!” Much to my big sister’s dismay, I always did follow her everywhere.
Saw this while at work. All the girls got a kick out of it. Said I still look the same. Aren’t they sweet. Sometimes I forget that girl and then surprise you remind me of who I really am. Love you bunches.
That’s my sister. 😉
sweet tribute
Thanks! I wonder what you’ve got to look forward to….