For hours I stared at the Sears & Roebuck catalog,
before I picked enough blackberries to afford to buy
the yellow dress. I imagined how good it would look
on my sixteen year old body. I wore it the first time
on Sunday morning to church. The preacher was
half-way through his sermon, when I felt something
crawling on my back. Thinking it was a fly, I rubbed
my back and realized it was not on top of my dress,
but underneath it. I didn’t want to get up and run out,
so I sat still, while it crawled around under my arm.
My face felt hot, as the crawling sensation became
unbearable. I decided I’d have to kill it, whatever
it was. Quietly, I caught the bug, and squashed it,
until it popped. When I looked there was a stain on
my new dress. By that time the preacher was giving
the benediction. I pulled myself together enough to
speak to him and glide out the doors. Arriving home
I worked hard to remove the stain from the dress.
The next day after the dress had dried, I noticed it
was completely covered in wrinkles, more so than
other freshly washed clothes. I got the iron and tried
to get rid of the wrinkles, but no matter how much
I ironed the wrinkles would not come out of it. I felt
so disappointed, I tossed it aside, the newness gone.
Thinking back on that day I realize I learned a valuable
lesson, All that glitters is not gold.
Glenda Barrett, a native of Hiawassee, Georgia, is poet, writer, and visual artist. She is the author of two books, a chapbook titled, When the Sap Rises, and a full-length book titled, The Beauty of Silence. She has been writing for twenty-five years and has been published widely including: Farm & Ranch Living, Journal of Kentucky Studies, Woman’s World, Rural Heritage and many others.
**Featured image credit: Julia Malushko, Pexels