I was standing on the back porch of the little yellow house, waiting for who only 30 seconds earlier had become my ex-girlfriend to get off the phone and come back to the porch and finish dumping me. It was a beautiful late spring day and as I stood there, I became aware of the sound of songbirds and the warm late afternoon breeze that lightly brushed my face.
Sherilynn was still on the phone. I became aware of a decision I could make right then and there. I could stand there and wait for her to get off the phone and finish telling me why we aren’t right for each other, or I could accept the invitation made by the songbirds and the breeze.
It didn’t take me long to make my decision. As I pulled out into the street, her little yellow house and the small factory town appeared and faded in my rear view mirror. I felt alone but not lonely, and as I drove west on highway eight, I began to feel strong. I was nineteen years old, and you don’t get much stronger than that.
One thought on “June, 1978”
I liked it. Poignant and true.