Last week was not so good for me. I won’t bore people, not following my blog, with details.
Here is the photo and my story:
We’d spent that summer pretending we were living in San Francisco. The Arkansas sun was hot and the humidity was heavier than steam from a boiling kettle. We just wanted to be outside, wearing our string tops and our short shorts.
Cousin Sissy had come, all the way from New Orleans, to spend the summer with us. She’d driven, from the convent school, in some old car she’d wrecked.
We really liked Cousin Sissy. Her parents were the only people we’d ever known who’d divorced. Gone against God and Church to have some other life. We all thought Sissy was so strong.
One afternoon, she suggested we paint her old car however we wanted. Cousins set aloose. We did our best. We painted furiously all summer.
By the time Sissy drove away to college that fall, she had an awesome car. A car stained with chili fries and cousin tears and magic.
This week’s photo prompt is provided by S. Writings.