PROMPT: remembering a person…
JOHN ARMSTRONG
Eighth grade is not a good time
to be serving hot chicken mashed potato and gravy
dinners on flimsy cardboard plates in the Grace
Church Fellowship Hall only to have one extra full extra
hot plate crack right over the lap, yes, the unmentionably tender
part, of a seventy year old man.
So who knew that in eighth grade there would also be
a dance in the Grace Church Fellowship Hall and that John
Armstrong, a ninth grader, who had never spoken, would ask
me to slow dance, and take my right hand in his, enfolding
it romantically just over his heart, touching unmentionably tender
dreams of a fourteen year old young woman.
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