The Street I Grew Up On

The street was wider when I was young, but as I stand at the end now, it is only one and a half cars wide, creating tiny battles that are fought every time two cars come head to head. Twenty years ago, someone thought Bradford Oear trees would be a great idea. Today, the foundations of each house groan their complaints as they shift uncomfortably above the probing roots. The yards are small and the dogs are big, but it balances out because if you don't have a dog, a neighbor will happily oblige you and give you the full experience of pet ownership regardless of your desire to have a clean lawn devoid of fecal matter. The mailboxes are strong steel cubicles with peeling paint that reads US MAIL. The one by my house has been tapped, hit, egged and otherwise abused, but it stood tall until my neighbor's ex-wife ran over it while she was high on meth. Otherwise, it's a clean neighborhood. One of my neighbors had a peach tree planted right next to his fence. I thought he was asking for it. I used to Rollerblade through the back alley as a child and circle and reach for the glistening peaches hanging just out of arms reach. As they ripened, the branch drooped and the tantalizing fruit was mine. It was the only fruit I ate from that tree because it had a worm in it. After that, I only bothered the crabgrass.