Artifacts
When we sold my childhood home, I pried up three
floorboards in the small, back bedroom and retrieved my rusty old toolbox from
the darkness underneath. I took it to my
workshop, hack-sawed the padlock off, and looked inside. Still there, after all these years, were
three artifacts from my adolescence: A shard of a cracked taillight, a Chevy
grill medallion, and a photo of a Camaro engulfed in flames. I took a photo of all three and mailed it to
my best friend from high school. He
promptly mailed me the check I had requested.
Days later, a bullet shattered my front window and embedded itself in my
back wall. I dug it out of the drywall
with a teaspoon and added it to the other artifacts in my toolbox. Some friendships never die.
No comments :
Post a Comment