[I accidentally posted this the other day, and then again, and then this morning too, before checking to see if the video worked, so I apologize to my subscribers who got email notification for an entry that didn’t exist. I hope you called me names. I’m clearly choking on technical difficulties over here. BLOGGING IS CONFUSING, YA’LL. Even when you’ve been doing it since 2001.]
There’s this girl who ambles around Brookline, typically decked out in track pants and a pullover. She’s never spotted without her headphones on and, if she’s been fed recently, you might be lucky enough to witness her busting out in spontaneous cheerleading moves.
A few years ago, I used my stealth and uncanny talent of hiding behind fences to document her in action.
I don’t see her as often anymore. Perhaps her joints are not as well-greased as they once were, but last Friday, in a moment of sheer kismet, she walked right past my car as I sat in the parking lot of CVS. She’s upgraded to real, honest-to-goodness pompoms. I couldn’t be happier.
One of the reasons keeping me here in this dumpy town is the hope that she’ll continue to give me glimpses into her world of recreational (but serious!) cheerleading.
I kind of wish I had interviewed her for my Creative Non-Fiction profile assignment, instead of the Mormon missionary. Oh well.