1960, Murdo grade school’s 7th and 8th grade, first boy-girl party in the unfinished basement of our “new” house. I’m the tallest girl in the 8th grade, dancing with the shortest boy in the 7th grade. I have on two different dresses in these photos taken on the same night. I ripped the side seam out of the first one trying to duck under someone’s arm during the first dance. I had to go change into one of my older sister’s dresses. Click on photos to enlarge.
Awkward pauses, awkward poses.
Awkward stances, offering roses.
Teens are natural at this.
First date, first crush, first awkward kiss.
Stumbling to stand like newborn colt,
One day suave, just now a dolt.
All creatures need to learn to be
what they’ll be one day effortlessly.
We learn our lessons through mistakes—
missed swings at balls and fallen cakes.
There’ll be missteps. That die is cast,
but adolescence does not last.
I’ve used this photo before, but the poem is new. The prompt today is awkward.