For a moment he returned to the years when her costumes consisted of white nurses’ capes, red riding hoods, and soft blue eyes – her smile that night was the same as then, minus braces, and dimples now outshone freckles.  With only a handful of houses to go and his football helmet in his pillowcase he thought of walking her to school in the morning.  He contemplated reaching for her hand but was late, because as his eyes glanced upwards – toward a dipper or God – his cheek was met with her lips and no wonder she was dressed as Dorothy because she helped him realize his heart.

copyright 2012 Steven Harz

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