Newspaper Print

“Dirty”. So the story goes.
My first word, stated strongly with a surprisingly deep rolling ‘r’.
Sitting stark naked (safe for a nappy) in the small, overly patterned blue living room.
Crumbled Daily Record pages strewn around me.
My mother promptly trotting towards me from the open kitchen door.
Tiny, sweaty hands held high to exhibit smudged newspaper print.
“Dirty, Laura. Dirty”.
Then a forceful little echo of “Dirty”, all rolling ‘r’ with clear, defiant eyes.

And so it came to be.
I shamed my mother. I was “dirty” and enjoyed it.
What should have been stepping stones to life-long partnerships, in my mother’s eyes, were brief and extremely fun encounters.
Worst still, this was openly admitted – in public.
For over half a decade, I gallivanted through most nights.
Fun was had, though faces were easily forgotten and names merged.

Later, I will tell this story and chuckle with my future husband.
Whose first word – incidentally – was “Hot!”.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s