Teaser Tuesday

Here's how to play.

• Grab your current read
• Open to a random page
• Share “teaser” sentences from somewhere on that page
• BE CAREFUL NOT TO INCLUDE SPOILERS! (make sure that what you share doesn’t give too much away! You don’t want to ruin the book for others!) 

When Margaret Mitchell's Gone with the Wind opens, Scarlett is 16 years old. She is so spoiled and pampered she doesn't even realize how spoiled and pampered she is. By the time we reach this passage, 330 pages later, Scarlett is 18. She's seen war and pain and deprivation and death.

Tonight, when Atlanta was so quiet, she could close her eyes and she was back in the rural stillness of Tara and that life was unchanging. But she knew that life in the County would never be the same again. She thought of the four Tarletons, the red-haired twins and Tom and Boyd, and a passionate sadness caught at her throat. Why, either Stu or Brent might have been her husband. But now, when the war was over and she went back to Tara to live, she would never again hear their wild halloos as they dashed up the avenue o£ cedars. And Raiford Calvert, who danced so divinely, would never again choose her to be his partner.  And the Munroe boys and little Joe Fontaine and —
“Oh, Ashley!” She sobbed into her hands. “I’ll never get used to you being gone.”

When I came upon this, I realized, "I do this!" I do this in the morning when I first wake up. I do this when I hear a song on the radio. I do this when I'm not actively focused on something else. My mind goes back to when I still had Henry and John. And then I understand life will "never be the same again."

 

I no longer know how to flirt

I went to a wedding Saturday night. I admit I was dreading it. Weddings are less fun when you don't have a date, and I never have a date. Plus I'm a friend of bride's mom, so I assumed going in I wouldn't know many of the other guests. I was right.

Still, I'm glad I went. I held the bride when she was a newborn. Her big brother, whom I've known since he was in preschool, officiated. He's now a dad and his toddler son preceded the bride down the aisle. Seeing all that history parade past, being able to enjoy what lovely and productive adults they have grown into, was very moving.

The ceremony and reception were held at Salvage One, a repurposed vintage warehouse. In between the events I wandered, solo of course, around this unique and fascinating space. An age-appropriate man -- turns out he was the groom's uncle -- was shadowing me and finally we began chatting. Amiably. We talked about how the stuff we grew up with in the 1960s is now "vintage." The mother of the bride, my friend, spotted me and gestured me to join her. She wanted me to spend some time with her toddler grandson. As I moved away from the man I was talking to, he actually looked sad. Oh, my God! We'd been flirting! It's been so long since I hung around with a man who wasn't gay, married, or far too young for me that I didn't know what flirting looks like anymore.

Onto the reception. When I first settled in at my assigned table, I found myself seated beside and across from women I'd met at previous gatherings at the home of my friends (the bride's parents). Everything was going well until the music started. It made it difficult to converse with anyone but the person immediately beside you. Gulp. The person to my left was another age-appropriate single man. (Who knew there would be at least two at this wedding?) He was a "third wheel," there with his adult children, who grew up with the bride. When we introduced ourselves, I extended my hand because I'm used to shaking hands with new people. He held mine a little too long, making me uncomfortable. Oh, here's that flirting thing again! He and his twenty-somethings came in from New York, and while they were clearly into college football (and seemed to have money on some games), he was still a New Yorker, so I asked him if he was aware of the baseball games going on this weekend at Wrigley Field (see post below). Then I couldn't wait for the food to arrive because I just didn't feel like doing the hetero man-woman thing.

First of all, while obviously there was something attractive about me in my coral knit pantsuit with the mesh bell sleeves, I feel (and am) very fat. Second, it's been a very long time since I kissed or even danced with a man and I just didn't feel like giving it a try with either of the available candidates.

So after dinner -- and after observing the bride and groom's first dance, as well as hers with her dad and his with his mom -- I ducked out. I'm glad I went but I was also more than ready to get home.

Sunday morning I awoke to a text from my friend, the mother of the bride. She said she was sorry she didn't have a chance to hug me before I left because she was "grateful for the positive influence" I have always been on her kids. Wasn't that lovely?

 

Photo by Nick Karvounis on Unsplash