By S. F. Brooke
“I’m so stubborn” she thought. Half laughing she placed a DVD she bought ages ago in a player a dance and workout country edition. She remembered being promised to go line dancing for her birthday by her mother’s friend back in Florida.
Now that she was finally able to live on her own she thought she give it a go.
For the occasion, she took out a bottle of hard cider she had learned to ferment. She also wore her embellished boho gypsy sandals with slimming denim shorts, a flowy strappy top, and an ivory weave straw hat.
It was more of a fun and relaxed atmosphere where she danced the steps in distinctive patterns to the choreographer on TV in a line alone her room taking slow swings of her drink.
It was a break of euphoria, of freedom. When the room seemed to dizzyingly sway along with her she stopped.
She grabbed her camcorder, with a her mulberry guitar hanging off the wall. Before she had only rented them for school. She was so happy to afford one of her own.
Her home was everything to her. She had binged watched home design shows and hit the books on off the grid living, and even homesteading, farming, and sustainable living.
She had designed a type of eco home called an EarthShip on a strange land of rolling hills. She spreaded wildflower seeds which had bloomed into pretty flowers. The sun honeyed.
She sauntered to a small covered winding path at the side of the house past the small palm like trees and tropical shrubbery out of a door. Next to her, she had a sheltered and in cave pool where when you kept swimming it took you out into the open where there were cascading waterfalls and more foliage and vines with flowers speckled throughout. At the other end the pool, it was decked out and had a patio of slate-stone.
She walked around to where the patio was, sat down, setting up her camcorder and tripod and began plucking the guitar stings.
She used to love singing.
“But I wonder when you’re drankin’
If you find yourself thankin’
About that boy from East Tennessee
And I know we both knew better
But we still said forever
And that was seven summers of Coke
And Southern Comfort
Were we dumb or just younger?
Back then you used to love the river
And sippin’ on a sixer with me
Does it ever make you sad to know
That was seven summers ago?”
When you’re not reading books, read our newsletter.