Wednesday, April 11, 2007

The middle finger

The things we remember! As a kid, we woul drive back and forth to the small city nearby. We used to ride with my parents, and then when we grew older, we would drive ourselves. The things I remember most are the drive. In the days when we could drive, there was a rise in the road. The faster we went, the higher our stomachs ended up in our a roller coaster.

This house. I remember it as bigger and nicer. Maybe the paint was better 30 years ago. It sits on the crest of a hill around a curve. But it's not the house that's noteworth, it was the downs syndrom boy who used to occupy the front yard like a lawn ornament. I mean no disrespect, it's just that he was always there. And he had a propensity for communicating. You know, international relations, flipping the bird, giving the middle finger. To everybody, scowling all the way. We used to drive by just to watch him abuse us with his magical finger! It's the little things in life. We'll, these days the house is a wreck and the lawn boy is gone, but a memory is a memory!

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