From the sky it was horseshoe shaped from one end to other where it met the main street where the cars traveled quickly carrying people on their way to somewhere. The street was simple asphalt with no sidewalks. You only encountered the main road if you turned right out of the driveway, but if you turned left you saw the bend of the road forming the bottom corner of the horseshoe, but we so often deviated from the bend in the asphalt. We would quickly duck under the electric fence marking the edge of the neighbors field that kept the horses and cows from roaming free. Crossing the field on the banks of the irrigation ditches we walked carrying our BB guns like some might hunters looking for wild game.
On the other side of the field we took turns holding the barbed wire apart as we each crawled through the small opening emerging into the larger agricultural fields that were planted with corn, potatoes, alfalfa and others crops depending on the year. This is the street that I grew up on. The fields and beyond yielded a world where young boys pretended to be men by exploring, discovering and imagining the world in our own special way. There were irrigation ditches to wade and swim in, trees to climb, brambles of branches to explore, silos to climb, old barns to explore and horses to dare each other to climb up on. A world where the expectations of daily duties of chores, school work and being a good boy were left far behind.
Hunting for our dinner as if our very lives depended on it, perfecting our aim with our BB guns we shot at many small birds, snakes, frogs and even each other on occasion. Although, we very rarely hit anything we believed we could survive in the wilds on our own. Then as the sun would sink low into the western horizon the realization sunk in that we must return to that other world in which we lived. The street that I grew up on lead to a world where imagination ruled and boys could be men, dream of adventure and always be the hero! ©Maleko 2012
(The above was written for Free Write Friday using what is called stream of consciousness writing, no editing, no proofing just write! The story was prompted by the text "The street you grew up on…" and image above, please check out Kellie Elmore's blog for more information on Free Write Friday's, twitter hashtag #FWF and join the fun! Just write!)
4 comments:
Mark, this took me right back to when I was around ten years old. My brother, my sister and myself used to venture out to a creek that run just behind the houses on the other side of the road from my grandmas house. There were just a few woods there but, it seemed like a forest back then and we would imagine and play and make believe all day until we heard grandma call us. I miss those days and find it sad how children have lost their imaginations to xbox and technology. What a treat this was. Thank you for sharing it with FWF!
Thanks Kellie, yes it brought back lots of memories of just being a kid and using your imagination. Our horseshoe shaped street would just lead you back where you started if you weren't careful, so we always tried to explore beyond that boundary. Thanks for reading!
Our neighborhood was surrounded by hay and cotton fields, and we also hunted with our BB guns. We had irrigation ditches and canals, too, since we lived in the desert. Great story, Mark. I enjoyed it!
Thanks Charles! Glad you enjoyed it as it is all true!
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