Road Trip Wednesday is a ‘Blog Carnival,’ where YA Highway's contributors post a weekly writing- or reading-related question that begs to be answered. In the comments, you can hop from destination to destination and get everybody's unique take on the topic.
We'd love for you to participate! Just answer the prompt on your own blog and leave a link - or, if you prefer, you can include your answer in the comments.
No, I wasn't in the process of performing a heroic deed.
I'd not just saved an animal, child or elderly person from impending danger.
I wasn't experiencing the negative aspects of an abusive relationship.
I hadn't been fighting with my two sisters.
I'd been checking out Dude (his real name) a bagger at the Valdosta Piggly Wiggly, circa 1987.
My trips to the grocery store were only about one thing in those days: finding Dude, and checking him out. Trying to catch his eye. Every day I hoped he'd smile at me, want to talk to me. Maybe he would try to find out who I was, like I'd found out who he was. I wanted nothing more than to have him notice me.
On that day, when I, staring dreamily at Dude, opened the car door into my face, I wondered for a split second if this would be the day. Maybe today, when I didn't actually want him to look at me, he finally would.
Even a minivan door to the face did not spark a connection between me and Dude. In fact, I never talked to him. I still haven't talked to him. But I have a scar, in my right eyebrow, that reminds me of a hot day at the Piggly Wiggly, and a young girl who was dying to fall in love, but would have to wait a few years.
What's your best scar story? Go to the Highway and see them all. Add your own!
Oh, and I finally jumped into the whole twitter thing, though I have no idea what I'm doing right now. Here's my id for future reference. Tell me if I'm making glaring errors please!