My Girl

Secretly, I watch the neighbors, From my well-advantaged location. Mrs. G. is complaining about her husband to Mrs. S. No one's drama is ever as vivid as Mrs. G's. They full-body laugh, tongues out. Mr. P. is going to be late for supper again; I can hear Mrs. P. cussing. At 4:15 I hear the all-day waited slam of a backdoor. My girl is running toward me, flat out. She is carrying a white pillow and gray blanket. There's a plastic bag swinging from her arm as she climbs. Prior experience tells me the sack holds a book, a drink and her favorite sandwich - mayonnaise, peanut butter and lettuce. After smashing a few ants on my floor, the girl flops down, and begins to read. I smile as she devours the sandwich like a young starving wolf. She's ten, the perfect age to devour. Every day is the same except Saturday. On Saturday my girl spends the whole day inside me, reading two to three books at a time. It is our favorite day. Her sister runs out sometimes and begs the girl to play, but we are fighting pirates, conquering Asia, taming macaws. We are so in tune, she and I. When I hear "CANDICE MILLIE STREET COME IN IMMEDIATELY!" I know my girl has to climb down and run for the house, leaving me alone, to spy on the neighbors. Date: 8/28/2018 What the Hell Throw One In John Lawless, Sponsor