On Sunday evening, Brett and I were preparing to go over to a friends' house for a night of NCAA basketball watching. As it was Sunday, of course I had spent most of the afternoon napping on the couch and woke up with some extreme nap hair. Since it was a static mess and I had been wearing it in a low messy bun all morning, I pulled the whole wad of hair—which desperately needs to be trimmed—into a high ponytail.
I reapplied some concealer to cover my nap eyes and shrugged at the disheveled girl in the mirror.
Back in the living room, I told Brett I was ready to go. He
gave me a double take.
“You look good. That is a really good ponytail.”
I couldn’t have looked more like High School Lindsay if I had
tried. The jeans, t-shirt and zip-up hoodie was classic. Many of my closest friends
had never even seen me without my hair in a ponytail. I looked 16 again—and told
Brett as much.
“You forget—that’s the girl I fell in love with.”
I was recently shopping at Sears and absentmindedly picked
up a bottle of Adidas Moves cologne.
A smile twitched on my lips—I miss Brett wearing that rich scent. We’re
seventeen and still getting to know each others' hearts. We're on a coach bus
traveling after a basketball game, or in a hotel room in Kansas City with our
high school choir. And he smelled so good.
It's funny what reminds us of the time when we fell in love—ponytails
or good cologne.
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