That Girl
My first real boyfriend, Alan, was a year older. We dated the summer after I graduated from high school. Off to college soon, leaving our small town and him, but he asked me to meet his family anyway. He picked me up in his ’79 silver Trans Am and we drove windows down, blasting Bad Company.
An hour later, we arrived at a small blue trailer with a wooden porch. Everyone sat crammed in lawn chairs drinking beer in cozies. After introductions, his mother said, “Ain’t she pretty,” looking me over, nodding her head. “Ain’t she pretty,” they all agreed.
Photo credit: Isaac Bowen
Excellent. Also, the Bad Co and Trans Am combination works well……….
Thank you, Brady, for the reading and comment.
Wonderful evocative terse yet yes surprisingly detailed
Howdja du dAT?
Much love to you
bin thinking of you lately (like always)
Miss you and that field of ironweed. xo
I could see everyone so clearly that I was surprised to read it again and see you didn’t describe one thing about their appearance. Excellent.
Gorgeous story.
Thank you, Joe. Appreciate the read and comment.
Thank you, William. Funny, but I hadn’t realized there were no descriptions of appearance. Your reading of it makes it more vivid.