Thursday, August 13, 2015

The Sure Community of a Cold Ham Sandwich

The day before the first day of school, the kids woke up with more fire under their feet than usual. After two months with nowhere pressing to be, we had an agenda, and it happened to be just a couple blocks down the street.

Calvin and Ruby made their own breakfast, laced up their sneakers, and circled me impatiently as I boiled water for tea. They begged to go early, and I set them free.

Over the next hour, the two of them rode their bikes along the buckled sidewalk to our little church at the end of street, then back again. Looking both ways before crossing, whizzing past new neighbors and empty rental units, they were shorter versions of the big-city bicycle couriers seen in the movies.

“They need pickles!”

“Do we have any vases?”

“We’ll take the buns down in our backpacks! We won’t squish them.”

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