I remember being seventeen. I remember stealing Kristin's shoes in French class, and thinking it was hilarious that I could fit them on my feet over top of the shoes I was wearing. I remember dancing up and down the aisles of the French class while Kristin chased me, barefoot, and Mme. looked at us in amazement.
And I remember the dances. I watch them and I remember so clearly it hurts. I relate to the girl in the pinchy shoes, hobbling around like a new baby deer and wondering how other girls make that look so easy. I relate to the girls hanging around in the bathroom, finding each other's company more pleasant and less threatening than that of the boys in the hot gymnasium. They don't really want to be there, but they're afraid that they'll miss something important if they go home. I also relate to the girls caught up in the moment of being paid attention to by a cute boy, acting stupid and losing herself in being the object of his momentary interest. I've been all these girls.
You can find yourself in this crowd. You can find a million versions - but there's one who's almost an exact replica of me at that age. The one who has long hair, sort of stringy and unkempt because she doesn't know how to do her hair, doesn't have anyone that will tell her how. The one who's afraid to go and ask someone to do her hair because she doesn't want to draw that kind of attention to herself. She is walking from one side of the gym to other. The purpose of the walk is to survey the surroundings, to see if there's anyone there that cares she's there, to see if anyone will call her over to join their group. She has to make the walk look intentional, though it's just wandering, because she can't look like she's waiting for an invitation. She wants to look like she already has one and is on her way there at this very moment. When she reaches the opposite wall, she arranges her face in an expression that indicates she heard someone call her on the other side of the room, or perhaps just remembered that she is supposed to be somewhere else, and then purposefully strides off in the other direction. Back and forth, wishing it was over, bored, and yet, still desperately hopeful that someone wants her.
I saw that girl last night and I remembered being her so sharply I almost gasped. Seventh grade.
High school is so strangely adult and juvenile simultaneously. I don't think I'd be willing to do it over again for anything.
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I won a prize in a free scratch and win thing at my local grocery store. It's a weird thing; some people think they're lucky or unlucky where it comes to stuff like this. I've never thought of myself as either because I generally just don't participate in them. I never buy lottery tickets or anything of the kind. Frequently, when I receive these free scratch and win things I forget to scratch them and they end up in the garbage, unchecked.
The one at the grocery store this time is a thing where you open a little cardboard window that reveals whether or not you have won a prize. I have a little more patience with this particular thing because it's fast and doesn't require me to get shavings under my nails and all over my car or house. So I opened the little window and saw a thing that said "Winner". This was several days ago.
I wasn't really convinced at the time. I thought it meant I had won the right to participate in a draw for the prize, or something like that. Something designed to get my address and information with which to pester me with junk mail. In fact, I almost threw it away. Shawn said he thought it was actually a prize and that I should take it back and ask at the store.
Today I went back to the store to buy green beans for the pups and remembered this thing. I didn't have it with me because I'd left it at home - but I thought I'd ask at the customer service desk if what I had meant I'd actually won something or not. When I described the ticket, the woman behind the counter got all excited for me and effused that it really was an instant prize with a value of nearly $4500. I was truly amazed.
Here's the catch though. The prize is a "diamond tennis bracelet". First of all, what's a tennis bracelet? Beyond that, who in the normal workaday world goes anywhere that a $4500 bracelet is appropriate jewellry? What on earth am I going to do with this thing? Somehow I don't think the grocery store will give me cash for it.
Apparently, I have to bring in the ticket and fill out some paperwork. After that, it takes a few weeks to arrive. So that'll give us some time to think about what to do with this surprising windfall.
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