Thursday, March 17, 2016

A Story From the Life of Sharon M. Ghostwritten by her granddaughter, Lindsey H.


Photo courtesy of Sharon M.

A Story From the Life of Sharon M.
Ghostwritten by her granddaughter, Lindsey H.

A Nice Evening

“Knock”, “Knock”, “Knock”. Butterflies tickled my stomach. Smiling back at my reflection in the mirror, I hollered goodbye to my parents, and scurried down the stairs. I took a deep breath, making last minute finicky adjustments to my brand new pink and black bermuda short outfit, and I opened the door. There Wes was looking sharp and well dressed as always. We were both too nervous to say much more than hello as we walked down my brick pathway and into his Father’s dark blue Nash Ambassador.

The ride over to Trinity Methodist Church, although a short one, was uncomfortable to say the least. Wes in the passenger seat and I sitting in the back with clammy palms. I had been anticipating this dance for quite some time; it was my first real date. Ever since Wes and I had met in math class he had been trying relentlessly to get me to go out with him. Showing off on the high dive at the pool, always trying to be the star with everything from football, to school. His immaturity was obnoxious but then again what 7th grade boy has any sense of maturity. I assumed he would grow out of it someday.

Climbing out of the leather seats of the Ambassador I thanked Mr. Mirick for the ride there. He simply nodded and drove away. Stone stairs led us into the church, our classmates and friends came into view. The scene was slightly disappointing, a turn table sat next to a bowl of potato chips and liters of pop. The air was thick with the anxiety of a middle school dance. Girls giggled at their dates standing on the opposite side of the room, nervously pretending not to notice the laughter. When I walked over to my friend’s they began squealing and shouting excitedly at me, “Sharon you came here with Wes!” “You two would make a darling couple”. My cheeks burned red, I didn’t know what to think of it.

As the night dragged on I kept on waiting for him to ask me to dance, wishing the boys and girls would mingle. Time went by so slowly. The clock ticked from 7 to 8 to 9, and still nothing. “I need your love” blared from the turntable. Butterflies fluttered back, our eyes met across the room “God speed your love to me...” Wes made his way over and took me by the hand. We rocked back and forth like statues glued to the floor. The moment had passed and unchained melody faded. Kids shuffled out of the church and the excitement and romance of the evening was over.

The Nash Ambassador rumbled into the parking lot. The ride home was even more awful than the ride there. When we returned, he walked me back up the brick pathway and to my front door where our night had begun.

“Thank you for a nice evening,” I said even though it was one of the longest evenings of my life.

Clearly I was not very convincing.

“You didn’t have a nice time,” he said bluntly.

A light clicked on, followed by chuckles from the other side of the door. Embarrassed and flustered I quickly said “good night” and rushed inside.

My Father was there waiting there for me, and his smirking making it all the more obvious he was eavesdropping. He had a certain look in his eyes as he and my mother gushed about how fond they were of Wes. Annoyed that they were so amused with the tragic evening I had just had, I insisted that I did not like him.
Two years later he convinced me to go on another date. I was hoping that he had matured (he hadn’t). Yet three years after that he convinced me to be his girlfriend; by then I was falling in love with his immaturity. His showing off caught the attention of OSU football, and they offered him a scholarship. Leaving behind my plans to attend Miami University, I went with Wes to Ohio State. Our Sophomore year he proposed. On June 20, 1964, a week after I graduated, we got married. As my Father and I looked at each other the last time before he handed me off to another man, that certain look in his eyes was back. And I realized he knew all along that this was meant to be.
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Photo courtesy of Sharon M.