The text message appeared at 6:29 p.m. PDT: “Crash at Florida and Monroe! Don’t know the scoop!” I responded to my good friend and neighbor: “I better go look!!” She owns kitties Guido and Little, who have appeared in my “Cats of University Heights” series.
Approaching the scene, I expected to see a couple of shattered and smashed cars in the intersection. As you can see from the Featured Image and companions, I came upon something more somber, and unsettling.
When I was 12, after school every day, my best friend and I would go to the local five and dime for Coke at the soda fountain. We’d sit on stools and share the drink, purchased for a nickel, using separate straws. His dad and mom worked at a different school, respectively, as principal and teacher. We would wait until they came for him. Day after day.
The description might make me seem to be quite old, but parts of Maine are still behind the times—in the best ways possible.
Last night, while washing supper dishes, I saw that someone had left a steak knife point-side up in the strainer. I saw it more as stake knife, as I would never let the point standup like that.
See, when I was a third (maybe fourth) grader, a knife accident left an indelible mark on my psyche and on the body of my youngest sister.