Caroline

I've been awfully weepy lately, but even when that's not the case, Old Crow's song can usually pull a tear.  A few lines about childhood and siblingry makes me think of all the good times Andrew and I shared back in those early years on Plum Street, especially before The Accident.  We really were free.

We spent afternoons and summers exploring our neighborhood.  Snow forts and fake camp fires, cooking blends of berries and sticks.  Andrew's "webbins" of sticks.  Stepping on skunk cabbage, breaking through the islands and sinking knee deep, or worse, in swamp mud.  The world in a cardboard box.  Short shorts, knee socks and puffy jackets.  Poison ivy.

I need to go unpack some more (figuratively?) but I know there's treasure in them hills.  I'll be back.