Wild Child

My father recently said to my husband: "Hold onto her as long as you can- she's a wild one."
At first it just seemed like an off-hand humorous remark to him, but now that I stop and think of what my life so far must look like to my father, (the parts that he's aware of, at least) I'm sure he wholeheartedly meant it. Working on farms and thoroughly loving playing in cowshit throughout high school, marrying the wrong guy at 18, dancing for strange men at 19, divorced at 27, getting married again at 29.
  I feel like I'm going to turn into the crabby old woman who just doesn't give a shit about what anyone thinks- I'm going to throw caution and self-preservation to the wind and just let the world have me. I'm going to wear wild outfits that darken to blacks as I age, and you'll see me in the park at dusk, feeding the pigeons. And once senility takes hold, I'm sure the clothes will start coming back off and I'll constantly be cited for indecency by the local law enforcement.

K