Letters From Heather — The Art of Distraction — 2022 (Patreon)

[Ah ha! On more, and I got @AldoInHeaven’s images mixed up! So I THINK this is the pic to go with this story — sans clothes — the PREVIOUS is in water, so I’ll guess that’svthe lake one! Well, context is hard earned, but better late than never. Enjoy the full res (ah, will always wonder what the finished one would have looked like… always think it would have been one of my faves.) 😘]

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Averting the eye is a bit of an art form. But the weather is pleasant, cool enough to feel like peppermint on the insides of your nostrils. I’ve been living in this old city for weeks now, and still haven’t taken the opportunity to get… lost, yet.

That’s one of my favorite things. The world-famous landmarks, monuments to tourism. Give me the quiet bookstore that smells like cigarette smoke that settled into the wallpaper decades ago; the hole-in-the-wall bar that serves exactly three types of snacks and just as many flavors of wine; the shadow of a tree in some forgotten park that doesn’t get quite as much love as it used to. The guidebooks call these sorts of places “spots the locals love.” Or, they would, if the guidebooks could see the charm of a place through the eyes of someone for whom it’s all brand-new.

Today is a day for walking. Aimlessly. For turning off the phone and experimenting in my scarcely cobbled-together tongue as I ask an old person for directions to this or that. Will I even be in the same part of the city as what I’m looking for? Will I understand them when they tell me to go two blocks and hang a left? Will they know it when I nod my head, that everything they’re sharing is flying right over it? That’s part of the fun. And, it’s not too hard to find a little cafe in this town, if I need to duck inside and cheat with the GPS for a moment to re-gather my bearings.

My favorite sweater. I’m a little bigger than I was last year, but God bless pure wool. A spray bottle, some loving stretching by hand, and I think I can muster another season out of it. I love the way the billowing collar feels against my neck; a little scratchy, but worn enough to feel like an affectionate tickle from an old friend. Natural fiber, cable-knit, a dull shade of cream… enough to forgive the occasional sin of dropped food or splashed wine.

Comfortably hoisted with the straps of my bra set to “loose,” the girls protrude from stomach level, gapping the bottom of the sweater. I should be fine in face to face conversations, but I might want to keep an eye peeled for onlookers if I encounter any glass staircases.

I wouldn’t be able to blame a person across the street, seeing me in profile, for thinking that I’m overdue with twins. And in a way, it’s not too far from the truth; Nat and Olga are going sightseeing, too.

Match with a loose ponytail and a pair of sunglasses, and who wouldn’t feel like a modern-day Audrey Hepburn.

And of course, the art of distraction. Jeans and T-shirts for so long… why did it take so long for my stubborn mind to have a little fun dressing the lower half of my body? I saw them in the window, and it clicked. A whole line of form-fitting pants with the comfort of my favorite leggings. Years ago? I might have dismissed the patterns as too eccentric for me. Too Bohemian. Bold, bright, jewel-tone hues, accompanied by complementary stripes. Some vertical; some horizontal. Eye catching, to say the least. In that first moment I saw them, the old prejudices — Dress down, Heather! — flared up. Thank goodness I allowed myself the time for a second opinion. But the time I walked out of the shop, I was the proud owner of six loud bottoms. My butt and legs… I’ve never been particularly proud or disappointed. But let’s see the eye not flicker away, if even for a moment, from the more obvious points of attention.

Comfy black flats, trusty leather messenger bag over my shoulder, and out the door to finally explore.