it would have been like this..
100 miles is a long drive inside a car
DK will be having her kittens anytime this week.. mum and i predict that there will be screaming babes by week's end.
my sister and i used to have this club - the ying yang club. we didnt know then that it was yin, rather than ying.. we had a red flag with a yin yang drawn imperfectly with black magic marker.
our club's headquarters varied with the day - whichever nook we could locate and fit ourselves into. a pine tree whose branches seemed to fall around us, making a perfectly dug out area; in the stowaway of a basement storage area; the dirty, dark, spider webbed attic. beautiful fort locations.
we had tons of small notebooks - the sacred pages that held our private languages; our secret codes. sometimes, when i least expect it, i stumble upon one.
we so loved our worlds.
in the summer, when the air was stifling and the creeks refreshing, we hung out in the streams for hours and hours. hunting crayfish, mostly.. sometimes we would look for fairy and elf homes. theyre all over the place, you know.. if youve got the time to look. we built dams everywhere.. dubbed them "first base", "second base", etc etc - all the way up the crick. when we sold the land behind our house, the buyers built homes thus destroying our bases..
by the time we sold it, however, bos and i were all grown up. the dams and forts were forgotten.. well, not forgotten.. left alone. now, theyre entirely destroyed.
too bad. i would have liked to romanticize the thought of future generations of neighborhood kids stumbling upon our old forts. they would have thought that they had found awesomely enormous natural formations in the crick. the little nooks that we dug back then, are to these kids the fairy and elf homes. the time capsules that we left scattered all around the woods would be dirty, rotten old boxes. the future kids would open them, thinking that they were indeed treasure - to their pleasant surprise they would find that they held in their hands an old rusty whistle and a wet, soppy notebook. inside the notebook would be random symbols.. some kind of ancient language, they would have thought.
you know, because it would be perfectly natural for previous civilizations to have filled tiny Mead notebooks up with imperfectly copied designs.
they would bring their treasures home.
go out the next day and bury their own.
thinking all the while, someday some kids are gonna find this...
DK will be having her kittens anytime this week.. mum and i predict that there will be screaming babes by week's end.
my sister and i used to have this club - the ying yang club. we didnt know then that it was yin, rather than ying.. we had a red flag with a yin yang drawn imperfectly with black magic marker.
our club's headquarters varied with the day - whichever nook we could locate and fit ourselves into. a pine tree whose branches seemed to fall around us, making a perfectly dug out area; in the stowaway of a basement storage area; the dirty, dark, spider webbed attic. beautiful fort locations.
we had tons of small notebooks - the sacred pages that held our private languages; our secret codes. sometimes, when i least expect it, i stumble upon one.
we so loved our worlds.
in the summer, when the air was stifling and the creeks refreshing, we hung out in the streams for hours and hours. hunting crayfish, mostly.. sometimes we would look for fairy and elf homes. theyre all over the place, you know.. if youve got the time to look. we built dams everywhere.. dubbed them "first base", "second base", etc etc - all the way up the crick. when we sold the land behind our house, the buyers built homes thus destroying our bases..
by the time we sold it, however, bos and i were all grown up. the dams and forts were forgotten.. well, not forgotten.. left alone. now, theyre entirely destroyed.
too bad. i would have liked to romanticize the thought of future generations of neighborhood kids stumbling upon our old forts. they would have thought that they had found awesomely enormous natural formations in the crick. the little nooks that we dug back then, are to these kids the fairy and elf homes. the time capsules that we left scattered all around the woods would be dirty, rotten old boxes. the future kids would open them, thinking that they were indeed treasure - to their pleasant surprise they would find that they held in their hands an old rusty whistle and a wet, soppy notebook. inside the notebook would be random symbols.. some kind of ancient language, they would have thought.
you know, because it would be perfectly natural for previous civilizations to have filled tiny Mead notebooks up with imperfectly copied designs.
they would bring their treasures home.
go out the next day and bury their own.
thinking all the while, someday some kids are gonna find this...