Dressing on the side: Another story in progress

            Brea was the kind of Minnesota woman who went from sandals to boots with no other footwear in between. In October, in a nod of acknowledgement to the climate, she’d wear long sleeves with her shorts and sandals, adding a jersey hoodie and boots to her longer shorts the closer the month moved toward Halloween. She rarely wore a winter coat before Thanksgiving, complaining along the way of the cold winds and snow. Her sweater and boots and jacket should have kept her warm.

            Brea was Rebecca’s wild child. She’d kicked off whatever southern heat might still cling to her genes and rejoiced in the ice of the land of a thousand lakes.

            Trish consumed sunshine through her skin. She gloried in the rays and the warmth, thinking of winter even in August as she stored memories along with the thermals. She divided her clothing into three seasons: summer, winter, and the in-betweens of fall and spring. She didn’t wear boots until the snow fell but by October, she’d stop wearing sandals and sleeveless tops. Everything in its season.

            Trish was Rebecca’s mild child. A person might think she carried the South in her veins and sought to thaw Minnesota from her blood.

            You’d think Brea needed taming, and you’d be right. But Rebecca heeding the warning about still waters knew it takes more than boots and clothing to regulate temperament. And Trish called herself a hot blooded woman.