Before you read the following short story by my hubby, I wanted you to know that when Mark gets an idea about a story in his head...you better stand back and be quiet. He wrote the following story in about 15 min. I think he is totally gifted in this area - the writer in him. It just came to him and he had to write, write, write.....this is what came out of his head. LOL Enjoy the story. We can all relate.......Our friendship started in first grade. Me and grady. we moved into the same suburbs when they were brand new. Grady's Dad worked at the mill just outside of town. His Mom stayed home like mine. Grady played shortstop for the Jasper rockets and I played first base. We spent our summers playing baseball and swimming down at Juniper park and rec. Somewhere around our third summer together we gathered up old pieces of wood from behind the hardware store. Mr. Waterman gave us some nails and my Dad let me use his hammer and we built our very own treehouse in the corner of the old dirt lot at the end of our street. It wasn't much to look at but it was ours. We'd stay up late and count the stars and tell stories of wars we would fight, bikes we would ride and adventures we wanted to take. We ventured to the river along the rail road tracks. We rode our bikes to the edge of town in every direction. The Woolworths store gave a penny for every bottle we brought in. There always seemed to be just enough for 2 ice cream cones on a hot day. Grady and I were friends all the way through high school. We were best friends. I was there When Grady's Dad died. He was right by my side when Randy Miller and his friends beat me up and took my paper route money. What ever happened to one of us happened to the other. you couldn't find two closer friends, close like brothers.
We lost touch over the years. I married and had a family. I never left Jasper. Grady joined the army to see the world. A letter here and there..... A phone call on a birthday...... His picture hung in my hallway for so long I stopped noticing it was even there. Once in awhile my son would make an infield play and it would remind me of years ago and another little boy who stood in that spot. Yes, once in awhile out of the blue I would be taken back. Taken back by the sound of the crack of a wooden bat on that very field, or the smell of Koasters Bakery that we rode by almost every day on our bikes. I find myslef wandering through the old neighborhood and pause a little longer than i should at a stoplight in the rain with my blinker clicking in time with my windshield wipers as I stare out across the street at a broken down tree house that had fallen down years ago.
Sometimes I wonder wear Grady is. I wonder if he is happy right then at that moment. I talk about him with old friends. Once in awhile in our weekly phone calls Mom sometimes asks if I have heard from him. There are times when I am afraid for him and worry as friends do. Those in town that knew him back then speak fondly of him often. There is a house where he used to live, just a few doors down from me. There is a face in a yearbook to go with his name. Some initials in an old oak tree in town square. i revisit our old places once in a blue moon. I stare at his picture and relive a hundred stories. But mostly I miss my friend.