Writing Prompt 1

I came downstairs decked out.

I was dawning my ribbed turtleneck, my grey stretchy pants, and some variety of cheap early two-thousands perform. Hair curled, makeup finished, feeling like a real gem.

I walked over to the window facing the road to see if headlights were heading my way yet. (We lived on a lightly traveled road, so if I saw beams coming that continued around the bend, they were more than likely coming to my house.)

It was a clear, cool, light-filled night in northern Ohio. Dusk was settling in beautifully over the fields that lined our property, though I didn’t have eyes for such things yet. My Dad was traveling for work, and my mom was sitting at her desk fiddling with papers, watching me wait.

I was all of 16, ready and willing for a college guy to pick me up for a dinner date.

It was all his idea. We had a class together the year before in high school and he had asked me if he could just take me to eat sometime soon. I shyly agreed, feeling giddy and pursued. We settled on a definite date and time shortly after that, via AOL instant messenger, I believe.

This boy, and he was very much indeed still a boy, was a good 3 years older than myself. He was an athlete, handsome, popular, with a questionable reputation.

I grabbed my purse and perched myself in our office foyer to wait for him.

The time he had given me for pick up came and went. I waited long, scanning the road for any hint of him. An hour passed and I realized…

he wasn’t coming.

My Mama offered to take me out to eat instead. That was kind of her, but all I wanted to do in such a moment as that, was go to McDonalds and eat a large fry by myself. (Even still, every once in a while I pine for a Mcfry. It’s a sentimental thing tied to my early childhood, as my Daddy liked to treat me to the drive-thru sometimes.)

So I hopped into my little Ford Escort, drove to the nearest McDonalds with my newly acquired driver’s license, went in and had a date with myself. I put pepper on my fries and dipped them in ketchup like my Dad always did. And I felt…..

relieved.

Deep down, I had hoped he wouldn’t show. If young hearts will listen closely enough to the spirit of God inside of them, they’ll know the yays and nays of their journey. It took me many more years to start listening that closely to mine. I had no business with that boy, but the thought of being pursued and popular was all I could see and hear at that point.

I found out later from some mutual friends who were with him that evening, that he announced to them he was supposed to take me to dinner, and just decided that he “didn’t feel like it”, after all.

See? Not a man, just a boy, in every sense.

I can still hear my Mama saying, “His loss! His loss, Darlin’…”

And I still believe her. 

*********

Today’s writing prompt?…

 Write about a time you were stood up.

Share this...

Facebook

Pinterest

Twitter

Linkedin