The air is warm after the night's rain; the wind is still. All along the road, quiet-faced puddles reflect the sky. The clouds are low and thick; the sun lies blanketed beneath them. In all the world, Penelope's hair is the brightest thing I see.
She's running down the sidewalk toward the school, ponytail swinging, but every so often she hops a little and turns back to grin at me. (That girl has mischief inside her.) Katherine and I are lagging behind her.
We're matching our steps in a slow rhythm. We don't speak, but her hand is warm in my hand and suddenly I'm aware that Katherine has bones. Somewhere along the way, the dimples I used to kiss turned into knuckles. Now the knuckles are giving way to dry palms and tapered fingers, a steady wrist, and I realize: this is an arm that can do things.
This is a hand that can lead the way.
She's running down the sidewalk toward the school, ponytail swinging, but every so often she hops a little and turns back to grin at me. (That girl has mischief inside her.) Katherine and I are lagging behind her.
We're matching our steps in a slow rhythm. We don't speak, but her hand is warm in my hand and suddenly I'm aware that Katherine has bones. Somewhere along the way, the dimples I used to kiss turned into knuckles. Now the knuckles are giving way to dry palms and tapered fingers, a steady wrist, and I realize: this is an arm that can do things.
This is a hand that can lead the way.
I was looking fervently for the 'like' button here.
ReplyDeleteBecause I like :)
and there it is -- hope.
ReplyDelete(quiet-faced puddles ---> sharp inhale. your imagery....)
So beautiful. Growing up is a mad thing. I am grateful for a tactile affectionate teenager!
ReplyDelete