This morning, while getting ready for a meeting, I had my iPod on shuffle in my dock. Pretty normal stuff played; Marilyn Manson, Mindless Self Indulgence, Evanescence (normal for me anyways)…And then, all of a sudden, a song played that took me back to my first real slow dance with my biggest crush, Lincoln. (People from Hulett, you’re probably cracking up right now, because there’s only one Lincoln.)
Strawberry Wine by Deana Carter.
Not only did it remind me of my first grown-up dance (it wasn’t really that grown-up…I was really afraid to ask him, and he finally asked me when people told me I wanted to dance.), but it reminded me of going to town in the summers with my sister, Kim, in the jeep that Beth let her drive. I remember the sun streaming in the large, open windows, our hair blowing around, sunglasses reflecting the bright sun, screaming the words to the Deana Carter CD that was playing.
We never went because we had to go, we went just to hang out, just to be together. Pat seldom came with us, and escaping from home was always welcome. I thought that we were the bets of friends, and I never wanted to summer to end, because that meant that we would go back to bitching about each other to our friends, and avoiding seeing each other in school. She was the coolest person I ever knew, and I was always so upset when she shunned me in front of her friends.
I was just the dorky little sister that always wanted to tag along. Now I can see why she never wanted me around, but it doesn’t lessen how bad I felt when she made fun of me.
But during those summer months, we were best friends, going everywhere together; to town, up on the hill to tan together, etc.
I miss the days when what CD we wanted to listen to was the only thing that we had to choose, before money and motherhood got in the way. (Not that I don’t love my nephews.) We were so free and able to do whatever we wanted. High school is so far behind both of us, and even though it was the worst time of my life, I would give so much to be able to go back to when we were able to hang out in the jeep, talking, laughing and singing to Deana Carter.
It’s funny how those memories last…