RemembeRED: Finding Beauty in Awkwardness

Sitting in the crowded high school lunch room, I had never felt more alone. My friends gathered around the table, more bodies than there were seats, and I retreated into myself, my shoulders hunched, eyes fixed on the ground. No one knew what to do with me - in one, short summer I had changed. No longer the funny, silly, outgoing girl they had been friends with for nearly a decade, I was now nearly mute, unable to hold eye contact and on the verge of tears at any and every moment.

A drop of ketchup fell onto my chest, staining my shirt. It was the same sweatshirt I had worn almost every day, and as I watched the stain form a few inches below the collar, I knew I'd wear it again tomorrow, whether or not the stain was still there. I had tears in my eyes, and fought my hardest to hold them back. It was just a small spot, but it felt like a bullseye with a big neon arrow, directing everyone attention to me and the mess I was.

The bell rang and I grabbed my things as quickly as possible, trying to disappear in the crowd now emptying from the lunchroom into the hallways.

"Hey! Panda! Wait up!" a friend called after me.

I looked over my shoulder and debated not stopping, but she caught up with me before I could pretend to ignore her request

She looked at me and knew something was wrong, even if she couldn't tell exactly what. But instead of trying, she just smiled and walked me to class.

And it was exactly what I needed, even if I didn't know at the time.

This post was inspired by a prompt at The Red Dress Club - RemembeRED: Finding Beauty in Awkwardness. Think back to your own adolescence. With the perspective of time, try to find the beauty or grace in an awkward adolescent situation, even if there is only a sliver to find.

Flicker of Inspiration #45: Short and Sweet

Sweet smells wafted out of the kitchen window, mixing with the sounds of birds chirping and the leaves blowing in the breeze. She was back home for the first time in years, but it didn't feel real until she smelled the bread baking. Sitting at the picnic table behind the house, letting everything sink in - she was instantly transported 20 years in time. She was 7, running through the yard, back and forth as the sun shone down, illuminating her golden blonde hair, the same sweet smells of yeast and flour filling the air.

The same sun was shining now, the long golden locks replaced by short brunette, and the yard, which seemed miles long years ago, was suffocatingly small.

She left two days after her 18th birthday, staying only long enough to sleep off her hangover before packing her car till near explosion and driving west, with no real destination in mind. She did the same thing every few months, only ever staying long enough for a broken heart - either hers, or some one elses.

Get a job, fall in love, leave - wash, rinse, repeat.

With a sigh, she heaved herself off of the bench and made her way back inside. There were boxes to unpack, rooms to clean, but it took all of her energy to just open the screen door.

Her whole adult life she had never been anywhere longer than six months. Her heart was broken in a different way this time - instead of forcing her out, it brought her back. The door creaked open, and the smells got stronger. Her heart was heavy as she realized, this visit, if you could even call it that, wouldn't be nearly as short.

This post is inspired by a prompt at The Lightning and the Lightning Bug- Flicker of Inspiration #45: Short and Sweet. Start your piece with either the word "short" or the word "sweet" and ending it with the word you didn't start with.