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Michael H. Lester<br />
For the Love of Freckles<br />
She sits in the next aisle and a few seats in front of me. I watch her laugh and<br />
sometimes catch a glimpse of her face—slightly freckled with high<br />
cheekbones and short auburn hair. I don't know how many seconds it takes<br />
me to develop a crush on Kay. For a moment, our eyes meet, but she looks<br />
down.<br />
I confide my crush to Lee, my classmate in the desk adjoining mine. Before I<br />
can say anything, Lee walks up to Kay, sits beside her, and whispers<br />
something. Kay turns and smiles at me. Embarrassed and ashamed, I look<br />
down.<br />
After class, I rush through the hall, but Kay catches up and takes my hand.<br />
wallflowers . . .<br />
out of the shadows<br />
into the light<br />
Michael and Kay have just celebrated their fifty-fifth anniversary.<br />
Sometimes, it pays to look up!