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A DEBUTANTE FOR A DAY

It all started with the ding of the elevator. I had reached the 9th floor….the PENTHOUSE!

Feeling nervous, yet excited, I slowly opened the elevator door, hoping to catch a glimpse of someone I knew.

I loudly made my way into the kitchen…clip clip clip clop…… My high heels were the only sounds I heard, over the quiet whispering of strangers in the next room.

All eyes turned to me, as I came into view in the doorway. I said hello, and did several introductions on my own, hoping to find at least one companion to talk to. My hostess friend was hostessing….

After, making my way through a handful of superficial conversations, the feeling of awkwardness came over me again.

I walked through the apartment, old, yet beautiful…. High ceilings, old woodwork, and giant windows in the foyer.

I could smell overwhelming sage, mixed with a faint smell of fresh food cooking in the kitchen. I could hear Jack Johnson quietly playing in the background, while new people were arriving….some were meeting for the first time. I noticed the first time handshakes, and the comfortable hugs of recognition.

I made my way to the balcony. I looked out at the city….to the North, the South, and to the East. I closed my eyes for a moment. My dress was blowing slightly in the breeze, and I could feel the cool evening air on my face.

I was enjoying my wine.

I talked with several more strangers, moving outside my comfort zone. I met teachers, and runners, acupuncturists, and bakers. I conversed with construction workers, and painters, computer gurus, and musicians. I met interesting people, strange people, ones I've seen before, and others I'll never see again.

It was an experience….

I drank more wine.

I made my way back to the food table. I noshed on roasted tenderloin, fancy cheeses, olives from different countries…. dishes I wasn't sure of, and a delicious ceviche, that I still can't pronounce correctly.

The red wine was gone…. I switched to fancy beer.

Before I knew it, I was friends with everyone! I was a social butterfly, sure to have made a lasting impression.

I felt like Scarlet Ohare, only in a luxurious penthouse in the city, instead of a southern home in the country. Our lives somehow mimicked one another's.

I pretended that this is where I lived, and that these were the people I always socialized with. I pretended that I wear dresses everyday, and that there is always an endless amount of wine flowing freely from my home. I pictured myself laying on the canopy bed on the balcony….the ceiling fan whirling overhead, while my butler served me grapes directly off the vine….

For a moment, I lived the life of this Godess that I dreamed I was.

I was home before midnight….sleeping before my head even struck the pillow. It's ALOT of work to play a debutante.

My eyes opened again…only I wasn't in my palace, but my old bed…in my old house. I could hear children fighting in the background, and my heartbeat in my head.

My children fought their way out the door, and I made my way to the tax office. The state says I owe them $800. I'm sure I don't.

I sit and listen to the lady helping me. She tells me what a horrible accountant my tax preparer is. She tells me that she messes up ALOT of people's forms. I listen to her for an hour, as we wait on hold for the IRS. I was being tested.

I made my way to the grocery store, for an in and out trip. I found myself in the shortest line, with the slowest checker. I needed a nap.

Is my patience testing me, or am I testing my patience?

I often wish I had more days to be a debutante. This leads me to wonder more….

If I were a debutante everyday, would I long for the life of a simple, poor woman who has more stress, but is able to appreciate the high times in my life?

I will never really know…but I can give it a good guess!

 

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5 thoughts on “A DEBUTANTE FOR A DAY

  1. Its the day after the night before that would possibly deter me from the life of a debutante.
    I am delighted to hear you got your just rewards for all your skivvying.
    I love the way we become the most sociable person alive after a few drinks. My husband doesn’t drink but still manages to sing and have a good night out without the day after disaster. I have yet to join him!

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