There were railroad tracks behind my house growing up.
The trains would fly by, screaming, no time to waste.
We’d stack pennies across the rails, hoping another train would come that day.
We’d hop across the ties like we were avoiding cracks in concrete.
Play gymnast, as if balancing up and down the rail would win us a trophy.
We took the train tracks to get to our friends’ houses.
If we were daring we’d follow the tracks to a fenced-off pond, filled with rumors.
A monster lived there, that’s why it was fenced-off.
Somebody drown in it.
They were attacked by the pond monster.
I’m sure there were snapping turtles in it.
We’d dare each other to climb the fence and swim in it. See who among us was brave.
Nobody was brave.
Up the hill, next to the pond, was a pile of power line poles.
There was an opening in the back of the pile and space you could crawl in to hide.
It as the best hiding spot we knew of until we outgrew it.
Then a mama cat moved in and had kittens there.
We stopped looking for hiding places then and just walked up and down the alley beside my house.
On the other side of the alley was a boy I went to school with.
I had a big crush on him but never talked to him.
Walking down the alley with my cousin, the boy was there and said hi.
We said hi too and then he started jumping around, grabbed his crotch and fell on the ground flailing about.
I thought that was really odd and we never did talk after that.
Until we were adults. He was still odd, but for a short time was a nice friend to talk to.
Behind my house lived a friend who never wanted to invite me over.
Until one time.
And her mom was there with a screaming baby.
And her stepdad came home and was yelling at her mom, then my friend.
Then we all had to leave, but he kept on yelling.
I never got invited to her house again.
