I went to a bar to hear some friends playing in a band several months ago.
I wore my (dating) scarf.
It is a really pretty scarf that I have worn a gazillion times over the years, because it is pretty and flirty and pink. Perfect for starring in your own movie life.
It also happens to be a good scarf to wear on a blind date- so when someone says how will I know you? You can say I will be wearing a pink scarf.
So I am hanging out at this bar, listening to music, wishing to death to death to death that I had even one ounce of talent so I could actually be the one on stage instead of the plebe watching, when I realize
Holy moly, my scarf is gone.
This may not seem like a big deal. But my clothes are part of my personality and that scarf holds at least three dozen blind dates under its belt and I love it and well
truth be told
It freaked me out
Did this scarf go missing because I am seeing someone and I will never ever ever in my whole life go on a blind date again?
How is that possible? I am only 15 51.
I can’t help but find meaning in every small and big thing. It is my blessing and my curse.
So I tore the place a part and found my scarf, under someone’s dirty boot, and hugged it tight and tossed it over my shoulder with the insouciance of a girl in a great relationship with a side order of growing pains.
Thanks Nancy. Loved this. Have I told you we live parallel lives? (Only my two children are sons, not daughters)
How else parallel? Tell the story. I am all ears.