There was a girl in my Modern Familiar Essay writing class last semester named Delaney and she was as sweet as a tiny, wild strawberry. She was short and super petite and always wore skirts and the sweetest dresses from a far away time. Once she wore a caramel corduroy skirt that flared out a bit at the sides and hit at the knee. I said, “I love your skirt.” And she said thank you most graciously and ladylike and said she liked my jacket. Her hair is dyed I love lucy raspberry blonde and wispy down to the middle of her back. It was always wet like she had just showered and ran to school.
Once she read a story she wrote about she and her husband hiking in Fontenelle Forest. It was dreamy. And then once she was in my peer revision group and for her experimental essay she wrote a one sentence paragraph about her husband and how much she loved him and wanted them to leave the earth together. She asked, “is that weird?” and giggled like she always did. So, so cute. And her voice was like a yellow moon pie. I wrote on her paper that it wasn’t weird at all! And it was a beautiful essay. Ryan and I had talked about the same thing; dying together would be better.
I saw her the other day holding her boyfriends arm and she looked like she could quite possibly be a programmed person the way she held his arm and walked like a doll. She is quite perfect. But of course she’s not programmed. She’s just too cute to be true. And it’s nice knowing that there are people living dreamy lives. So the other day I decided, on one of my thousand days, I’d like to be called Delaney.
