Atop creaky honey-colored bleachers in middle school, Sara Hepner* crushed a wad of chewing gum onto my hair, smushing it far into the strands. The basketball game of high school boys raged on below us, and foul horns bellowed. Lanky high school boys lined up at the free-throw line, and my fingers crawled behind my head on reconnaissance.
Later that night under harsh fluorescent kitchen lights, ice cubes and shears flashed and twisted the light in my mom’s gentle hands. In angry tears, I poured out the story. She listened and then asked the question I knew was coming...
Join me over at Breakfast in Moscow for the rest of the story, will you, friends, where I have the honor to guest-post? Breakfast in Moscow's Elizabeth is an international journalist, a world traveler, book-devourer, fine cheese aficionado, and long-time friend. Join me there for the rest of the story, will you?
Linking also with Imperfect Prose.
Photo Credit: Microsoft clip art.
* Names have been changed.