Originally uploaded by NiklasPlutte
Movie Star Hair
Picture! Picture! Can I take picture? The little girl asks me with round, chestnut eyes.
Picture? Sure, of what? I reply, bending down to the girl, who comes up only to around my belly button.
Of you! She exclaims excitedly.
Me?
Yes! You! Picture! Please?
Ok, I say wonderingly.
The little girl runs to her mother who is wearing a green punjabi suit, and tugs at her elbow, points at me, and hands her the camera. She runs back to me, towing her mother behind her. She smiles at me apologetically, and I smile back, no problem.
The little girl takes my hand in her tiny one and smiles big at the camera. I look at her and her toothy smile (the second grade, I just lost half my teeth kind) and can’t help but smile in return. The camera clicks, winds, clicks again, and we’re done.
The little girl bounds to her mother who hands her back the camera. Her mother tells her something, and the little girl scampers back over to me.
Thank you! She says, beaming.
You’re very welcome, I say. But why do you want my picture?
You have movie star hair!
I can’t help but laugh at that, and she laughs too. I’m not a movie star, I say to her.
But you have movie star hair, she says again.
Come back, calls her mother.
She smiles endearingly again, and skips back to the picnic blanket where the rest of her family sits.
When we leave the Mother India Temple, and pass their family again, the little girl waves at me, with the most radiant smile in the world.
Picture? Sure, of what? I reply, bending down to the girl, who comes up only to around my belly button.
Of you! She exclaims excitedly.
Me?
Yes! You! Picture! Please?
Ok, I say wonderingly.
The little girl runs to her mother who is wearing a green punjabi suit, and tugs at her elbow, points at me, and hands her the camera. She runs back to me, towing her mother behind her. She smiles at me apologetically, and I smile back, no problem.
The little girl takes my hand in her tiny one and smiles big at the camera. I look at her and her toothy smile (the second grade, I just lost half my teeth kind) and can’t help but smile in return. The camera clicks, winds, clicks again, and we’re done.
The little girl bounds to her mother who hands her back the camera. Her mother tells her something, and the little girl scampers back over to me.
Thank you! She says, beaming.
You’re very welcome, I say. But why do you want my picture?
You have movie star hair!
I can’t help but laugh at that, and she laughs too. I’m not a movie star, I say to her.
But you have movie star hair, she says again.
Come back, calls her mother.
She smiles endearingly again, and skips back to the picnic blanket where the rest of her family sits.
When we leave the Mother India Temple, and pass their family again, the little girl waves at me, with the most radiant smile in the world.
~molly (: