As soon as I set foot on the glossy white tile, I feel like I might break out into hives. I maneuver through the obstacle course of racks and shelves, dodging landmines of toppled sweaters and discarded jeans. My hand skims over a blouse and I cringe at the cheap feel; it reminds me of my old Friendly’s uniform that I am fairly certain would have melted if set aflame. I follow my daughter through the maze until she heads to the dressing room with an armful of clothing. Joining her inside, I lean awkwardly against the mirror and try to stay out of her way. I detest this store: the clothes, the disorganized mess, the way I feel one hundred years old as I pick through the midriff shirts and macro mini skirts. I don’t belong in a store called Forever 21; I was twenty-one years old forever ago.
*****
I pass the familiar woven triangular bread basket, as we chat about a little of everything. The conversation is easy, and despite my bad back I am more comfortable than I have been in days. I dip the ladle into the tomato sauce, smiling at the silver dish I remember from my childhood. It was usually filled with Ragu or Prego, but tonight my mother has tried a new brand of sauce, which I give the thumbs up. Family dinners at my parents’ usually include the whole crowd in the dining room, but tonight we are just four. Matt is out of town, and James and I eagerly accepted the invitation to Monday night dinner. We sit at the round kitchen table with my mother and father, eating chicken paremesan, Caesar salad, spaghetti, and bread. I am not at my own house, but I am home.
*****
I slouch on the bleachers, my braces and feathered hair blending with the sea of other sixth grade girls. The gym teacher, who would in later years be renamed a physical education teacher, apathetically calls out the names listed on her clipboard. The sea dwindles as girl after girl moves to another spot in the gym with her class. When I am the only student remaining, the gym teacher confers with her male counterpart, heads bent and clipboards touching. Why was I not called? Did I read my schedule incorrectly? Am I in the wrong class?
I am. I am on the boys’ list, which would have thrilled me four years later. But now, I am not quite eleven years old, and I am mortified and alone on the bleachers.
*****
For years, holding hands was a rare treat. Those hands were filled with stroller handles, then preschoolers, then kids who were still willing to walk hand in hand with Mom and Dad. But now we’re lucky if the teens walk beside us, and my hand is free to find his again. They fit together easily, as if they had never been separated. Our selectively observant son comments on the weird way our fingers mesh – my pinky tucked between his pointer and middle finger. I never noticed it before he pointed it out; it is just our natural way. We walk through the neighborhood on a balmy March day, just the two of us. Like it has for over a quarter of a century, my hand slips into my husband’s, where it belongs.
Well done and very evocative. You and your husband do hold hands odd! But so sweet.
We didn’t even realize it was odd until our son pointed it out. I guess there are more embarrassing ways to be odd, right?
Oh I just love every word of this, Dana. Such beautiful glimpses into your life and it’s changing phases. My favorite line, though – I don’t belong in a store called Forever 21; I was twenty-one years old forever ago. I love that.
Thanks Lisa! Really, that store makes me itch.
You are very right about holding hands – it is something David and I use to do a lot, but rarely do anymore. We are usually surrounded by kids and, if we do manage it and the kids see us, they act grossed out by our show of affection.
Ha – that just makes me want to hold hands more! My kids have learned that the more they protest, the worse they make it. 😉
I really enjoyed this, Dana! About being accidentally placed on the boys’ gym class roster… I, too, would have been mortified.
It seemed like the end of the world for me…maybe that’s why I gave my kids names that were clearly male/female!
This was really wonderful, Dana!
Thank you, Nina!
Thank you Nina!
aw the last part about you & dad made me tear up. love and miss you crazy people terribly. xoxo
Miss you too baby. See you soon though!! And we are not THAT crazy…
Dana, this is beautiful! And I feel like I’m on an alien planet when I’m in Forever 21(I hate that store). And it’s always soooooo crowded!
It is – and so messy. I always feel sorry for the employees – they must be hanging up clothes all day.
I loved this prompt, and of course, I love your take! It made me hungry for dinner too. I belong at that dinner table too, I think!
I haven’t been in Forever 21 in ages. By the way, are there any dirty secrets of Friendly’s food? I worked in a Domino’s and we were actually pretty darn hygienic at that one!
No dirty secrets – we were pretty clean. We did leave our tip boxes out in the middle of the restaurant, which would never happen now. It never occurred to us that anyone would steal our tips, and no one ever did.
Beautiful and relatable vignettes about belonging – thank you Dane for sharing! And Ryan and I hold hands in EXACTLY the same way :).
You do? That’s so funny. I’ll have to tell my son we aren’t the only weirdos. 😉
Ah, Forever 21 is a world of it’s own…
It really is! A crowded, messy, icky world. Give me H&M every time.
I apologize for staying away for so long. Life. Your lovely, welcoming post reminds me that I must pop in more often. I ached for you sitting there alone on the bleachers. It reminded me of the time the 9 year old me was asked by the sales clerk “are you a girl or a boy?” Ouch. And yes, Forever 21 is NOT a fave of mine either. You described it brilliantly.
Off to read your other posts that I’ve missed.
I’ll always welcome you back with open arms, Kelly – no matter how long you stay away! Ouch indeed to the boy or girl. Why would a sales clerk even as that?!
Oh, this is so beautiful, Dana! You seriously have such a way with weaving words together.
Thank you so much, Bev!
I love that handholding detail! What a wonderful place to belong. Thanks for sharing where you do (and don’t) belong!
This was a great prompt to exercise my writing muscles, Hillary – thank you!
I love this Dana! Tucker holds my hand where my index finger is between his pinkie and ring finger. He always has, I think… I laughed out loud about being 21 forever ago! I wish I lived near my parents… and now I want chicken parma. YUM.
I know, right? James requested it, and I realized I never make it. I’m going to have to add it to my rotation, since he cleaned his plate.
Super sweet. Holding hands with someone is the best feeling in the world, whether that’s a partner or child you love so much. Truly where we all belong.
I completely agree, Kerry!
The word that resonates in each glimpse of your life is “home.” We sometimes create home but instinctively know what home is… and what it isn’t. Enjoyed these slices of your life, Dana!
Thank you Alison!
These are wonderful memories, and I love your comment playing on the name Forever 21.
One of my glaring memories from junior high gym class (are there four more cringeworthy words?) was a kid saying, while picking his team for kick ball,: “I’ll take the girl with the orange hair and glasses.” :-/
Ouch! Poor junior high Julia. I hope you kicked a home run!
Luved this post! I don’t know if you ever told me about your name being mistaken for a boy’s and if you did, I don’t remember! Can one hurt for their child’s embarrassment or pain even after 35+ years? Yup. Boy, this post had me going through various emotions in a very short time. Did I tell you I luv your writing and you???
Aww, thanks Mom. Love you too!
I felt like I was slowly melting into this post. I love it so, so much!!! You have such a gift Dana…seriously. Thank you for sharing this. I always feel a little bit better about my boys growing up when I read these! xoxo
Thank you for such a lovely compliment, Allie – truly. I’ve been really off in terms of writing lately, so I really appreciate it.
Aw, loved learning a bit more where you belong, especially that last one as I feel very similar with my own husband here, too! 😉
Thanks Janine!