02 June 2011
3 jackie. found.
As a little girl, she was often alone. She'd hike up her dress and run free like the wind. She was forever falling down.
Her mother admonished her to be a lady. She wasn't. She was perpetually covered in scrapes, her knees bloodied and bandaged. It was doubtful she'd ever catch a husband with all those scars.
And yet, with the unflinching determination of an athlete and the sensitivity of an artist, she fancied herself an adventurer. She was, after all, the daughter of a rogue, a fact she well knew and secretly relished.
She was going to be queen of the circus, she said. A mighty bold bound across social strata for a tightly wound rich kid from Newport.
It took her years and yet now, here she was. On an island. In Greece. Married to a pirate.
Her sun burnt skin was streaked with fine lines like cracked porcelain.
She let her hair grow long.
She walked down the streets of Capri in bare feet.
It was the first time the world had seen a First Lady without a bra.