The Love Story Passed Nineteen Again

s the biggest local event

the regional festival in Clea

hville, but it

but Mark had been dismissive. "Singing? That'

t that dream die, alo

hings would

thing that felt truly mine in

scrawled on the list

r, Folk Sing

ou show them, honey.

e updated contestant list

on was on it.

cou

tainty, who her biggest cheerl

s were held in the hi

as p

guitar, the one Dad taught me to play on

ooth in places, fami

in a sparkly leotard, surrounded

, fetching her water, fa

ce, and his express

ling was starting to bubble

termin

m, or his infatuation wit

urn

ge, the single spotli

m' s encouraging wa

egan to play a song I' d written, a raw, emotional p

he strings, the melody

pouring my heart

discorda

tring

pening my eye

slack, then another.

eat rushed

heard a loud, mocking

can' t handle the pre

is friends

e in our past life, at a community potluck, when my casserole dish "accide

. I couldn't

remem

me that too. It was always in

or it, my h

oice trembling slightly. "It seems I'm having

monica. "But the

, no fair! That' s not what she sign

oved coach here! You' re all just gonna l

ium buzzed

her glasses. "Mr. Henderson, please sit down. Miss Miller, the rules

but not before shooting

ised the harmonica to my

filled the air, a sound comple

, a powerful, old folk ballad about resilien

wailed in be

nitially restle

and valleys, about fall

r my mom, for the dre

here was a moment

ouder and longer than I c

bbing her ey

d a small, almost

, my legs shaky bu

ge and ridicule, a

new sound, a

d against a wall,

here, but it was now mixed wi

s life, just like he' d subt

e, I wouldn'