Friday, July 20, 2012
When You Get Married
I followed the flouncy little girl out of the market and into the late afternoon burning sun and she was half skipping, half ta-da-look-at-me-ing in the crosswalk with her mother, who was carrying cotton grocery bags full of, i don't know, organic things i suppose, and the little girl said, "When you get married, your hair . . ." and then her mother stopped her with her one free hand as a car passed, and said, "WAT?" and the little girl said again, "When you get married, your hair . . ." and it drifted away, whatever it was and her mother said, "Kay, you are a Half-Glass-Full kinda gal, and I'm just a Half-Glass-Empty kinda gal . . . " and they went their way and I went my way and I wanted to know what her hair would be when she got married, I did, I really wanted to know . . .