Friday, December 29, 2006

The walk

The boys planned their adventure for several days prior to setting out. They had their favorite sticks. Bob had his cowboy boots. Butch had his work boots. They had their pocket knives. The day of the adventure, Mom packed sandwiches in wax paper in a bag, with a candy bar, and a bottle of pop.

They started walking east, along the road. They were heading to Granny's house in East Helena. It was a five mile walk. It was early. The sun hadn't melted all of the dew off of the weeds in the ditch by the road. It would be warm, though. That was promised.

As they walked, they explored. If there was a bump that looked like it could hide something dead, they stopped and checked. Dead things could be really interesting if you hit them with rocks. If there was a can, it needed to be kicked. And it was important to see who could kick the farthest.

They walked. Their boots got dusty. The bottom of their pants got dusty. The sun got warmer. East Helena seemed very far away. But so did home.

Cars went by, driving quickly on the highway. They made up a game of counting the red ones. And seeing what license plates were on the cars. And seeing if they could put big rocks in the road to clang off of the hubcaps.

The day got hotter. The sun was high in the sky. There were small clouds filtering by- blown by the everpresent western breeze.

They decided that they should eat their lunches. It was tough carrying the paper bags without crushing the food. And the candy bars probably had melted by now.

The sandwiches were peanut butter and jam. The candy bars were very melty, but still worth peeling off the paper to eat. The pop was warm, but still fizzy. They were ready to bury their pile of garbage in the dirt and continue on their trip. But first, they had to try and break the thick glass bottles with rocks. Because that was all part of the fun. The first one who succeeded won.

Finally, in the late afternoon, they were walking down the street to Granny's house. The pine trees in her yard made her porch shady and welcoming. Her door was open, and the screen door filtered the sound of the radio from inside. They could smell her cooking something for dinner.

They were tired. Bob's feet hurt in the cowboy boots. Butch had torn his pants climbing over some barbed wire. They walked into the house, dusty and tired. With sunburns and sticky hands. And Granny welcomed them like returning heroes. With cold pop and sliced apples with cinnamon.

It had been a successful adventure.

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