Can You Have a Crush on Someone After
Age Fifty?
Excerpt from Chapter 1, Deep Fried Trouble
I should’ve turned around and gone back into the house as
soon as I saw him. That would’ve been really silly since he’d already spotted
me.
Eugeena Patterson,
what’s wrong with you? Get it together,
woman.
I took a peek at my neighbor again. A quiver started in my
stomach as I walked down the stone pathway in front of my home. The change of
life had already paid a visit so I certainly couldn’t blame my hormones for
making my knees turn to jelly. More than likely my anxiousness had to do with
being a widow almost three years. The loneliness of my home, once occupied by a
family of five, had grown claustrophobic.
Being officially retired, only a few days ago, after thirty years of
service as a social studies teacher didn’t help matters. All this free time on
my hands made me act peculiar.
I couldn’t believe that at my age, with three grown children
and now three grandbabies, I had become infatuated with some man. An old one.
But not bad looking, as far as I can tell with my new bifocals.
If only he wouldn’t be
looking at me.
Over the shrubbery that separated our property, Amos Jones
waved at me. What could I do but be neighborly? I plastered a smile on my face
and waved back.
Lord, please don’t let
me say anything crazy. So often I ended up feeling like I’d just put one of
my size nine feet in my mouth.
With as much tact as I could, I smoothed my Patterson Family
Reunion shirt around my hips, which didn’t outline my rolls anymore. Praise the Lord!
One good thing about walking, I’d lost thirty pounds. My
steps even felt lighter. I never had an hourglass figure mind you, but at least
my pants weren’t riding up between my thighs. That would have been too
embarrassing.
Sure enough as I reached the sidewalk, Amos drove his lawn
mower alongside me. The way he grinned, one would’ve thought his mode of
transportation resembled a shiny red sports car. Men and their toys, especially
the ones with wheels.
My impression of him remained the same as the first time I
saw him over a year ago. He reminded me of Harry Belafonte. One of those men
who managed to look more distinguished with age.
Now me? At fifty-nine, I looked nothing at all like the
younger version of myself. Not that I was ever a beauty queen.
“How ya doing this morning, Mr. Amos?” My cheeks burned from
grinning. “You got your grass looking all good, as usual.” My right eyelid started to twitch. I hoped he
didn’t think I was batting my eyelashes.
Book
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Fried Trouble?
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Eugeena’s crush on Mr. Amos Jones. What do you think? Can You Have a Crush on Someone After Age
Fifty? Enter your response in the
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