The Three Musketeers
Sarah Everson
Lucy doesn't remember that Spring of '83. She was only 8, but I was 12 and I remember. It was Saturday. Our day with Dad. We were going to fly kites at Murray Field and I had been looking forward to it all week. Mom made us wear our winter coats, even though the snow had melted. She kissed us goodbye and scooted us out the door when we heard dad's old Plymouth Duster pull up. Dad had bought us new kites, and we struggled to put them together as we sang along to the Beatles' "Yellow Submarine." Dad always said we were the three Musketeers, and today we were off on an adventure. But when we got to the field, there was a strange woman waiting for us. She was tall, with dark curly hair, and she smelled like lilacs. I'm allergic to lilacs. She smiled at us and leaned over to kiss our Dad, who suddenly looked like a stranger. He beamed as he introduced us to Linda, and announced that she was going to become our new mom. Lucy giggled and warmly accepted Linda's kiss. I think she thought we were playing house. I felt frozen, and I was now glad to be wearing my winter coat. As Linda bent to kiss my cheek, I wished I could become invisible. The wind picked up and I started to run with my dragon kite, watching the tail grow smaller and smaller. I ran until my lungs burned, and I could no longer see straight. The wind tugged the string from my hand. I wished I too could fly away.
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