Monday, October 08, 2012

Lillian

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As I will remember her, she had wide blue eyes and curly-curls and had gotten her first ever fake tan, which was starting to peel, and which she said she loved, and she said boys definitely noticed her more.

Her heroine was Frida Kahlo: she adored her, she showed us the earrings she wanted, with portraits of her on them at the shop we went to.

"I heard in America you call Autumn 'Fall,'" she said to me, "and so I named this mix cd 'Fall Break.' I hope that's alright." She looked worried, like I might take offense, like maybe it was cultural appropriation to use words that didn't belong to her.

She wanted to start a hippy, happy socialist commune where we'd all grow our own food and live together in harmony.

She was lovely and fun and funny and the second night in a row that we went dancing, she told me (as I danced) that I was "groovy," which was a really good compliment to get. Then we all sat in the canoe and relived the night before, which had been, we all agreed, "the best night ever." We laughed until our breaths ran out.

She's different now, I'm told. But at the time, she was a sweet, wild girl; free-spirited and intelligent, guileless and easy-going.

Oh, I was so sad to leave all of them.

3 comments:

Holly said...

Mmm. The Australian I'm living with has commune dreams as well.

Maddee said...

I love your writing, Miss E. It all has a fairy-tale quality I couldn't mimic if I tried.

Anonymous said...

I am really enjoying this blog: the poetry, prose, and also the photographs. This blog post was my fave. I felt how much you missed her. It reminded me of a friend I had over twenty years ago. I still miss her!