I just dropped off Doug's Jeep. The brakes failed... he'd been adding break fluid to them but ... now they barely work, and I do mean barely. Luckily the garage is literally visible from our house and I never had to speed up with traffic coming behind me. I managed to coast into the lot and hit the emergency brake to stop it.
On the very short walk home I looked down at my shadow. My hair is very long, and it was "out" as it were, not pulled back in a scrunchy or restrained in any way. There was a slight breeze, and my hair was aflutter. The sun at my back gave me the perfect perspective of this Birth of Venus-esque vision of my tresses.
Suddenly, I was reminded of a similar scene when I was perhaps a sophomore in High School. I was walking in downtown Huntington Village NY, my hometown, and my shadow-hair looked ... awesome. Bouncy and carefree, it looked as if my hair was just flowin' in the breeze, like I was right out of some Marshall Tucker Band song, or perhaps Dan Fogelberg would write a tune about how lovely my locks lilted.
I walked with a dance to my step, imagining that I too must look as wonderful as I perceived my hair to look! Grinning and happy, I felt like I must be gorgeous today.
Until I walked past a store with reflective glass in the window and realized, sadly, I looked like crap, I looked ridiculous, possibly like a maniac or a psycho. My hair wasn't gorgeous, it was long, stringy, tangled and sloppy looking. I stopped my bouncy jaunt and resumed walking like a normal human being.
And today I remembered that, out of the blue, for no reason.
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