Misty 1 8 |
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“Being yourself isn’t about getting out of bed in the morning without aches and pains or still being able to do all the things you used to. It’s about being able to live each moment your own way. Sort of like me going for a drive at night without bothering to get dressed.” I could swear the sparkles in her eyes were tiny points of light. “Why, Honey, look at you. You got out of your car and picked up my package and then came and had a drink with me. You’re living life your way. The next time you’re feeling down just imagine me driving by, waving at you. I bet you’ll smile and start feeling better.” It never occurred to me to ask who she was or anything about her. At some point we were leaving the bar and I was saying good-bye to Charlie like I’d known him for years. In the bright light of that afternoon, her makeup couldn’t hide the signs of age. And now that she’d mentioned it, her car did have some dents. It’s been a couple of months since I met Misty. I think I’ve seen her once since then. I was feeling like life was a mountain I couldn’t get over and then there was a glimpse of a red car going the other way, her blonde hair and a wave. I didn’t have a chance to wave back. It made me smile and life didn’t seem such a steep climb after all. Strange thing is that I thought I’d go back to the bar, but I couldn’t find it. I was sure I followed the same route from the mall but I must have missed a turn somewhere. Nothing was familiar. I looked in the directory but there was no bar under that name.
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