Last night me and my brother laughed about our dirty laundry and how it would pile up in the basement of our yellow house on 7th avenue. Mom worked three nursing jobs and offered us a quarter for each load. Instead, T-Tom said it made the perfect spot for hide and seek. Until one of those fuzzy centipede looking dirt bugs, I think we’d call em’ would crawl out of a crusty pair of pants and across our mouths. All our friends would come over and practically nosedive into it. He somehow seeps into every good memory of growing up. He was the designated organizer of fun in our little nothing neighborhood. Yeah, when T-Tom knocked on our front door on a Friday night, we knew we weren’t sleepin’ at all that weekend. He would get everyone on our block together and start a game of whiffle ball in our backyard. Third base was the tire swing on the hill. He’d help us duct tape our Rock Band drumsticks back together after a sweaty day of trying to get perfect scores on Creep and Wanted Dead or Alive.
By Olivia Kretchman