last little bit........
However, when I suddenly thought of him again after all these years I remembered talking to him, in confidence, about girls, particularly Janice, his half-sister. He had rolled in the dirt, laughing uncontrollably, when he realized I was saying I liked her. I remembered a trembling gray kitten, a tiny blue parrot, and a silent, dirty handshake. I had the most vivid image of him, an enraged boy defending his mother, swinging a shovel wildly at his stepfather until the police took him away. My memories also included an accusing cinder, crashing with metallic thunder in the night.
I don’t pretend to know what it was that made me think of Albert again after all this time. I forgot about him after the funeral, as if he had never existed. The world went on, with other wars and crises in the ensuing decades for new generations to think about.
Yet I find, somehow, after all is said and done, now that I’ve started to feel old, I miss him. I see Albert differently, and wonder what kind of man he would really have become.
I drove by the old neighborhood last night. I’m not sure why I did that, either. I have not been back there in such a long time. The house where I grew up is completely gone. So is the large oak tree that once dominated the front yard. Several other houses I remembered are gone, too.
Albert’s house is still there. I just realized it’s been a very long time since I thought of it as the old Cantwell place. The outside is painted differently but, other than that, it looks very much as it did all those years ago. There are even metal trash cans stored in the same spot in the back alley, sitting atop a rickety bench above the loose cinders.
I almost caught myself looking for Albert.
Mrs. Anchor’s house is still there, too. I wish I could say the whole neighborhood hasn’t declined, but it has, and her house is no exception. The current owners are not nearly as meticulous as she used to be. They haven’t planted very much, and they don’t seem to have ever fertilized the lawn. The yard looks pretty Spartan and run-down. All the color she brought into our life for so long is missing. Except on the side drive, up against the rear gate, where I noticed there is still a lovely little patch of flowers.
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