Much love and peace to you today,
Girl, if you say that boy's name one more time, I'm opening this door up and flinging myself out into the deserts of Utah," Grandma slaps her knee and I shrink down, seat belt digging into ribs.
Utah with her rouge painted wrinkles, her blush-brushed crags, blurs by at 60 miles an hour. Another mile marker flashes and I bite my tongue. I won't say it out loud, how many more miles home to that boy and those eyes, but there's no stopping a heart from keeping tally.
"You want me to slow down before you jump or you just leaping without warning?" Dad chuckles, one hand wheeling that wheel.
"I think I'm just leaping, Son." Grandma shakes her head. "Did you ever in your life know a girl so love sick, Lloyd?" Grandma swats Grandpa's shoulder, gets his attention.
"Ten days, thousands of miles criss-crossing the States, hitting every photo op you can imagine, and all she goes on about is The Boy this, and The Boy that. He's all she can think of! I've heard so much of that Boy, I wished we had just packed him!" My cheeks burn redder than Utah's cliffs and Grandpa winks, elbows my snickering kid brother in the ribs and they howl, coyotes on a ridge.
Mile 368. If Grandma but knew how that grin of his could wind a girl in and spin her out, let her go all a dizzy swirl. I'm counting miles back to that smile.
"You sure are in love, girl." She pats my knee.
First love's an immersion and passion shapes all vowels into the kiss of that name.
To continue reading 7 Ways to Do Crazy Love and Fall for God
To discuss Ann's post, visit our Bloom Community