The Girl With Feathers In Her Hair

she wore feathers in her hair. waking up every morning to go in search of them. red ones and blue ones and green ones and yellow ones. the white ones were her favorite though. dove feathers. she cherished them. kept them in a wooden jewelry box that she kept hidden under a floor board under her bed. “angel feathers” she called them. and once she had enough she would sow them together, make herself a pair of wings and then it would be goodbye jeremy and hello eternity.
she wore them all the time. when she went to school. when she went to church. when she brushed her teeth and when she ate her greens. she even wore them to her Auntie Sandra’s wedding. i remember Carlton, that was Sandra’s husband for all sixteen months that they were married, leaning over, kissing her on the forehead and calling her his “little feather girl”. everyone thought that amusing, i remember, because she was one of the flower girls and she went home beaming for days.
and then something bad happened. and she stopped wearing feathers in her hair. she stopped waking up to collect them and she threw out all of her “angel feathers”. i remember walking up to her house one saturday morning and finding them scattered all over the lawn. there were so many of them. a childhood of them. i knew how much they had meant to her and so instinctively, without even thinking, i bent down and began to pick them.
“what are you doing?” the voice was angry. angry but wilted.
i looked up. she was standing on the porch, one hand firmly on her hip, the other hidden behind her back. there were no feathers in her hair. there was, however, a somber expression on her face.
“your-your feathers…what happened?”
she took a moment before answering. a great sadness washing over her face.
“we’re not children anymore jeremy. the feathers were a fantasy. go home.”
but i couldn’t. no, not like that. not with her sounding so defeated. not with her looking like God had closed the door to Heaven right in her face, no. and so in cold defiance, which in retrospect probably wasn’t the best idea, with the feathers still in my arms, i walked towards her.
It was her sixteenth birthday.



  McKeith wrote @

So, is there something that is about happen? Has she lost her innocence or virginity…. Is a it break up……..
Nice piece though…..

  Tricia wrote @

Very nice read. Love your flow of words

  Blogs Search Engine wrote @

Blogs Search Engine…

Blogs Search Engine…

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