I first met my husband’s new wife in a crowded ballroom. She was dressed like a princess in a sky blue satin gown threaded with white satin flowers, her blond hair sprinkled with glitter dust, swept up and spilling ringlets of intent.
She had come to watch us dance. But when I said hello, she scowled.
“What on earth did you tell her about me to make her give me that kind of a look?” I asked him.
“Oh, she’s always like that,” he explained. “She’s moody. It doesn’t mean a thing.”
He was right. She was moody. I liked her all the same. Sometimes we even made each other laugh.
Now they live happily ever after.
About the Author: Beate Sigriddaughter, www.sigriddaughter.com, lives and writes in Silver City, New Mexico. Her work has received three Pushcart Prize nominations. She has also established the Glass Woman Prize to honor passionate women’s voices.