The way we remember
Posted by SgtPepper | Posted in short story | Posted on Tuesday, September 16, 2008
I was born ## years ago, in a place nearby you may not know. It’s a small place, filled with trees. My house was small but cozy, and by the river side, when I grew up I realized that was actually dangerous, but nothing ever happened, not in the rainy days, not in the storms. I had a canoe, my dad had bought it in a yard sale in the suburbs. It was kind of old and paint less, plain wood. I remember it was huge, when as a matter of fact it was certainly small. But the size didn’t matter, since two kids could fit easily.
I had no siblings, but the kids that lived around joined me in a different expedition one day. Sometimes we went fishing with some sticks n’ strings we got from Timmy’s garage. We where the flying Englishmen, whenever we played navy. We where the blue-skinned, when we played Indians, we where the spitty faces when we played pirates, and we where Ferdinand’s crew when we played explorers.
I had an adventurous infancy, even if the river was a polluted estuary, my house was cardboard-like, and the canoe was a piece of wood.
[Mrs. K i t e ]
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