Theme Fridays: Dented Can

There are no street signs here in the village, and no numbered houses or curbs.  A GPS couldn’t get you back home, so you musn’t forget where you live.

A late Lucerne sun hits us hard by the fairgrounds, and we hear Mom’s singsong from the top of the hill.

Gle-en, Geo-orge, come ho-ome.

Our summer shoes stir up dust from the gravel as our beanpole bodies full-bore.  We find a tin can near the corner by Busby’s and we kick it as we climb.

We reach the Lutze’s and slow to a crawl ’cause our summer friends are there (we don’t have to go in, we just have to head home, and that’s anywhere on the hill).

Our dented tin makes a perfect home base and we place it by the well.  Sherrie is it– while she counts we all scatter and hide as the sun sinks west.  We Kick The Can until well after dark, while the fireflies spark and the chiggers eat us alive.

Suppertime coaxes us out of the hedge rows, behind the lilacs and out from under the cars.  One by one we dodge and dart and struggle past Sherrie, who races us back to the well.

The summer air cools as we move through the shadows and fight to get safe home.

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Christine and Annie take on Dented Can.