Life Is A Highway
8 Years Old
I enjoyed my morning walks to school; I no longer had to walk my younger brother there. Mikey could run like the wind was after his soul and he was daring her to take it, in those days. The boy ran to school every morning.
I would stop at the end of the long driveway, following the brown picket fence to the sidewalk.
I would open the book I was carrying and walk down the sidewalk, with assurance. I knew every dip, every incline. It was not as risky as it seemed. My nose buried. In fantasy. Not watching.
Until I would arrive in front of the Ross' home. They had a dark black driveway. With brick columns at the end of it on either side. That had surveillance cameras in them. The big brick house always had the curtains drawn. I missed the steps of the little white chapel that had been sitting there instead, only a year before hand. I always walked fast passed their home, comfortable when I came to the smaller and grander stone fence of their Porch Over.
Everyday, the little old lady at the first corner would stand in her housecoat, a square of brown curtain opened in her window.
I would look up from my book and she would smile and wave at me.
I never spoke to her.
Never saw her any other time.
Never knew her name.
She was there Everyday.
The Crossing Guard was where we would all meet, coming from all the directions on the busy street leading out of town, geared in our backpacks.
To walk down the street, that highway, to the next corner.
Where there were no sidewalks. We would walk with the cars climbing up to us, some with early morning headlights on. Marching side by side in groups of two or three.
Pretending we could not see the cars.
There was a safer way to school.
But this was the most dangerous thing we knew.
Next week, I start a new Everyday.
A big risk.
But I discovered a long time ago, I liked being risky, walking down West Street, facing the growls and purrs of passing motors.
Some risks are just meant to be taken.
I gotta keep Feeding The Habit.
8 Years Old
I enjoyed my morning walks to school; I no longer had to walk my younger brother there. Mikey could run like the wind was after his soul and he was daring her to take it, in those days. The boy ran to school every morning.
I would stop at the end of the long driveway, following the brown picket fence to the sidewalk.
I would open the book I was carrying and walk down the sidewalk, with assurance. I knew every dip, every incline. It was not as risky as it seemed. My nose buried. In fantasy. Not watching.
Until I would arrive in front of the Ross' home. They had a dark black driveway. With brick columns at the end of it on either side. That had surveillance cameras in them. The big brick house always had the curtains drawn. I missed the steps of the little white chapel that had been sitting there instead, only a year before hand. I always walked fast passed their home, comfortable when I came to the smaller and grander stone fence of their Porch Over.
Everyday, the little old lady at the first corner would stand in her housecoat, a square of brown curtain opened in her window.
I would look up from my book and she would smile and wave at me.
I never spoke to her.
Never saw her any other time.
Never knew her name.
She was there Everyday.
The Crossing Guard was where we would all meet, coming from all the directions on the busy street leading out of town, geared in our backpacks.
To walk down the street, that highway, to the next corner.
Where there were no sidewalks. We would walk with the cars climbing up to us, some with early morning headlights on. Marching side by side in groups of two or three.
Pretending we could not see the cars.
There was a safer way to school.
But this was the most dangerous thing we knew.
Next week, I start a new Everyday.
A big risk.
But I discovered a long time ago, I liked being risky, walking down West Street, facing the growls and purrs of passing motors.
Some risks are just meant to be taken.
I gotta keep Feeding The Habit.
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