I think I liked Melanie because her hair had a slight bit of curl which I might have envied although this was the era of slick, stick-straight, part-down-the-center, the-longer-the-better 1970s hair. Melanie showed up in the middle of Beowulf one day in English class. No, she wasn’t monster hunting, she brought me from the midst of the tale wondering about feasts, Danes, and funeral pyres.
“I like that skirt. Come to my house later. My room is so keen,” she said.
It was the 1970s, but Melanie was the first free spirit I had ever met, wearing small flowers interwoven into her hair. Her parents were bonafide hippies, younger and cooler than mine. Her world was filled with colors of the 70s, avocado green, harvest gold, orange and purple, beaded curtains and rugs shaped like feet. Melanie had a brown guitar that she had learned to play from her dad…
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