An angel with dreadlocks

The other day I met the cutest young woman outside of Guazeway, a shop here on Center Street.
I’d gone inside to check out the clearance rack while Melissha, who had come down to visit, sat outside with her iced coffee. When I came outside, Melissha-who never meets a stranger-was in the middle of a conversation with somebody.
She was a tiny thing with bright hazel eyes the color of a lion’s, and a mane of sunbleached dreadlocks. Not a drop of makeup on her tanned skin, but she seemed to glow.

I was drawn to her like a moth to a flame.

I knew I was going to like her.
Melissha went inside to try on a dress while Bonnie and I kept talking. She worked at the shop and had been on her way back in from her break.
When Bonnie asked where I was staying, she knew exactly where it was. “Beach access 27?”
I laughed and said yes. “I go down 27 to see my favorite sign, then up 29 to look for the tortoises, Oscar and Alex.”
She spun around and jumped up on her tiptoes. “I painted that sign!”

We laughed like lunatics. I told her how I was kind of obsessed with the tortoises.
Bonnie grinned. “Yeah, I made a sign on down the beach for Sparky, too. Because his burrow is right at a light pole.”

We talked for a long time. She told me where to find the best coffee for the price on the island – Mobil on Sadler – and promised to come by when my house is ready for company.
We saw her a couple of days later, riding down the beach on her bicycle in a yellow bikini, wearing Lennon style shades, drinking her gas station coffee.
No idea how dang cute she is, or how bright her light shines.