Roly Poly Heads

The house on Chester Street still lingers—compartmentalized, nicely, somewhere in the memory's web up there. Nostalgia reigns when thinking about my childhood digs: smashing roly-polies, out back, and dropping the heads in my brother's soup before dinner; playing Doogie Howser as our golden, Lady, decided to have babies on my bed; sneaking out way past my bedtime and burying a time capsule in the front lawn (a, sealed, top secret letter to my 30-year-old self; a snickers bar; some bazooka bubble gum; three packs of 1986 Topps baseball cards; my brother's favorite hat). I'm far away from that street now—that time—but I visit there whenever my dreams allow.

The Plot Thickens: (1) something smashed, and (2) a sealed envelope

Tags: plot_thickens

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Comment by Salvatore Buttaci on May 8, 2010 at 6:46am: A bit of well-told nostalgia!

Comment by J.L. McGrael on May 5, 2010 at 6:29pm: I like it a lot.

Comment by J.L. McGrael on May 5, 2010 at 6:28pm: This is a cool flash... something about it... can't really put my finger on exactly what it is... but I like it.

Comment by Reneemj on May 5, 2010 at 12:48pm: I know this is an older post, but I had to come check out your stuff. This is very vivid. I did the capsule thing too. Sadly, about five years ago they dug up our old yard...septic issues. Sigh. So I'm sure our capsule, a shoebox, is long gone. Probably covered in pooh and whatnot anyway. By the way; A bed is never the same once puppies are born in it.