Writing By Headlight

The radio was on in the background as I went about my daily tasks of laundry, dishes, and other menial yet necessary chores.  I let my mind wander as my expert hands accomplished the work they had done countless times before. 

Through the scattered thoughts that were drifting around in my head, I heard the first few notes of the next song, my hands stilling as Me and You and a Dog named Boo began.

Listening to the familiar song, I was swept away by a memory as sweet and vivid as it was that day it had happened over 30 years before.

1972

Excitement rippled through our conversation as the warm spring air drifted through the open windows of my friend's car.  Heading towards the old brick high school, we passed some of our friends who were not lucky enough to have a friend with a car, making the journey by foot.  Giggling, we watched them pull the large curlers out of their hair before reaching the school, in an effort to get the maximum results out of their hairstyling efforts.

Tonight was the night of the sock hop, the last of the school year, and in the tiny town of Milan, Missouri it was a big deal. 

Walking into the dimly lit gymnasium, my gaze danced across the sparse decorations and the smiles of my classmates, the air humming with the anticipation of a night filled with dancing and flirting.  Assuming we would be subjected to the usual live band full of good intentions but little talent, I was surprised, then ecstatic to see the stage empty, except for a jukebox.  It was nearly vibrating with the beat of one of the more popular songs currently on the radio.

Overcome with delight that we would actually get to dance to real music, music that we all listened to and loved, I began smiling and moving with the music. 

Then I saw him.

Our eyes locked from across the room.  Memories of our past history more powerful than any words we could speak.  More than two years after we broke up, Roy could still make my heart race with just his smile. 

Drawn by some mutual need, we met without a word at the jukebox and knowingly selected the song. 

Taking my hand, he pulled me close and we swayed to the music, reveling in the familiar scent and feel of a young love as we waited for the song we had chosen to start playing.  When the first few notes of the song finally floated through the speakers, the soft ache in my chest began to build.  This wasn't just any song.  It was our song.  

Before I knew what was happening, I found myself behind the curtains at the back of the stage locked in a mind numbing embrace.  As his lips caressed my own, I could no longer hear or see anything but him.

I knew in my heart that this sweet kiss was not one of new beginnings, but one of goodbye.  I was a small town girl with a big city heart and I had an opportunity to move to a much larger city and a much larger high school.  In a few weeks, I would be gone.

That knowledge made the kiss that much sweeter.  I knew he would forever hold a place in my heart. 

I became aware that the beat of the song had changed and couples around us were separating.  "Ok kids, break it up." Our school principal said as he discovered our hideout behind the curtains.  "This is a dance, not a make out session." He said, pushing us back out to the dance floor.

Roy and I exchanged one last look and then went our separate ways.

**

As the final notes of the music faded into the radio announcer's booming voice, I was guided back to the present.  Tucking Roy back into his special place in my heart, I began my work again, but this time with a nostalgic smile on my face. 

Note: This post was originally written by me on my former blog To Twinfinity and Beyond, that I authored under the alias Sonora.  It was written from a prompt and linked up to the Red Dress Club, now known as Write on Edge.