Boy meets girl. It is 1989. We make things up.
We pose for a picture. Kansas wheat fields wave and hay is rolled. I’m bleach blonde, your hair pitch-black, our shirts tucked in.
It’s back to school without you.
No cell phones, email, texts, GPS; but we are here. Sending letters of love across 1,500 miles until those California Santa Ana winds catch me.
It’s clear. Our family begins on a hay bale beneath a big blue sky. From here on out, we make up more stuff, un-tuck our shirts, stop fussing with our hair so much.
[Open the first photo album you can find — real or virtual, your call — and stop at the first picture of yourself you see there . Tell us the story of that photo.] http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/snapshot-stories/