You've got your red shoes on

I usually fall in love with ideas of people. I am so enamored by who I think they are. Who they tell me they are. I am perpetually in love with the hope of someone or the memory of someone. I have an idea for what I'm looking for in a person, but sometimes I give into those guilty pleasures of that girl I once was (mind you she wasn't a bad girl--just an easily impressed girl). So for the sake of remembering...

Remember that time I donned boots and a dress and cried when I saw Bob Dylan? Jess and I were the only ones dancing at that show!

Remember that time I was that girl with that band (which band haha)? When the songs were about for me, or for me (at least for that moment), when lyrics were altered to be about me and my dark hair and my red high heels? When everyone in the place walked up to me to tell me how lucky that guy with the guitar was that I was there for him?

Remember when I was part of a kind of dorky "it" couple? Everyone knew me because of that boy? We had plans and nicknames and an ugly house to boot?

There are a million more stories just like that.

Trish "I still remember" the Dish