our hills

I was seven years old when Tami invited me down the street to her dress up birthday party.  She was a year older, and I thought she was far more sophisticated than me.  Her dad was a professional photographer and he took a picture of the party girls dressed up in their fancy clothes. Tami stood in the center in her mink, sporting a black eye her brother had given to her by accident.  I stood a couple of girls to her left, wearing a gypsy skirt and top my mom altered for me from her wardrobe. My wide smile showed my thrill to be part of that celebration.  The photograph remains as one of my childhood treasures. Continue reading “It changed but wasn’t wrecked” »