It was 1969 and she was ten years old. Two numbers. She thought she probably ought to feel pretty grown up by now, but somehow she just didn't. She looked longingly at her little sisters, dressed in shorts and crop tops, and pulled angrily at her own dress. Stupid thing. It was so short that she was afraid to do anything, but she'd begged and begged for a micro-mini dress, so now she had to wear it. After all, she was ten now. Practically grown up. Too old to make mistakes.
The little girls squealed and laughed as they blew bubbles, and she'd have given anything to be nine again.
© 2007 Cynthia Newcomer Daniel
Sterling silver, freshwater pearls. Hand fabricated.
In private collection