This is a snippet from Chapter 4 of my novel Seeing . . . available in print (soft cover) and for e-books.
Chapter Four
. . .
Recollection
I’ll never forget seeing her long blonde hair glistening like a halo around her head and over her shoulders. Her face, arms, and skinny legs protruding from white shorts were the color of golden brown calfskin in the summer sun. She stood close to her dad the way a little girl does when her dad is the biggest and most important man in her life.
My dad introduced me to Buddy Owen who leaned his bulky frame on one right crutch, and Buddy introduced me to his little girl Jean July Owen.
“Jean July,” he urged gently when Jean July hesitated.
That was when she stuck out her hand for me to shake and smiled with determination in spite of her current shyness. I felt my whole head heat up when I gathered what little wits I had for a 12 year old boy facing the onslaught of cruel puberty and managed to shake her hand. The sensation of her skin against mine was like nothing I’d ever hoped to know, and I had to let go in a hurry before the sweat building under my arms ran down the length of them and soaked both of our hands.
She was the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and whatever God does in the instant of meeting the one you love, she was imprinted on my heart and soul from that moment on.
Father, thank you for this story. Apart from you, I could've never written it. Thank you is never enough. In the Name of Jesus, Amen.