My Morning Walk

HeyBoo

On my morning walk I past the house that looks like Boo Radley’s house and it reminded me of the rundown, overgrown, junkyard house that was down the street from where I grew up and as Cooper and I scurried past Boo’s house I thought about how we used to call the kid who lived in the dumpster house “Trashcan Travis” because of all the trashcans that lived, like squatters, in the front yard filled with what looked like a field of ten foot tall dead corn. ┬áThis was terrifying when I was little—-all that mayhem right out there for all the world to see—and EVERY DAY I had to run like I’d been shot out of a cannon when I left my house to go to my best friend’s house who lived directly across the street from the house of Trashcan Travis.

My strategy had to do with starting my sprint from INSIDE my house, before I burst through the screen door and catapulted down my driveway. From there I would take a sharp left across our lawn figuring any time shed from my journey could only work in my favor and I would then have two entire houses to charge past until I was at Kathy Rizzi’s driveway. And Kathy Rizzi’s driveway was approximately two inches from Trashcan Travis and all his garbage—or at least that’s how it felt—and as I bolted up Kathy Rizzi’s driveway with Trashcan Travis’s house looming behind me I would yell “IM HERE!” and pray that I wouldn’t have to wait too long on the porch, panting and terrified that Trashcan Travis would emerge from his house and gobble me up.

I swear to Wilma Rudolph I don’t know how I survived.

Why Walk When You Can Run Like Hell,
The Human Rocket

4 Comments on "My Morning Walk"

  1. The kids in my neighborhood were afraid of The House Hidden by Giant Hedges. Oooh, I just got a chill!

  2. The Zadge says:

    Ask the Sista to explain the Jukes, our Trashcan Travis.

  3. MidLyfeMama says:

    I just laughed out loud in my office as the image of a young Cupcake, screwing up her courage while still insider her own house, about to catapult out of her door toward her friend Kathy’s house played in my mind’s eye. I see a girl, legs ready, arms cocked, saying to herself “OK, out the door, across the lawn, sharp left, straight on to Kathy’s, DO NOT MAKE EYE CONTACT WITH TRASHCAN TRAVIS’S HOUSE. Right. Got it. And GO.”

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