The Beginning of A Story

The cool wall of stone I sat upon at the park was where I met the strangest character. She looked as though she stepped out the door of Anthropologies into the world that it created. Her dress was ruffled and sheer with tiny chartreuse flowers mixed with yellow Swiss dots. The boots she wore were black knee highs laced with teal blue and white stripe cotton threaded through with apricot colored silk tassels. Her hat was a perfectly sheer white Panama covering her yellow curly hair which followed the neckline of her red linen sweater.


Oblivious to me or anything she walked in circles while singing a tune I could not identify but sounding quite familiar and enticingly worth remembering. It would haunt me when I would remember her. I tried to remember her. I didn’t want to forget the ethereal moment when she came across the wide green lawn and over the little bridge to where I sat. I asked her when she stood in front of me what her name might be. “Edit,” she said. “Edit?” I asked. “Yes, said she. Pronounced just like Edith but leave of the h.” I commented that I had never heard that name before. I, thinking it might be a foreign name, asked what her last name might be. She replied, “That it is, not might be, Button.”