Fibbing

This was later.  But I want to tell it anyway.  I lied to Ma all the time.  I was only sometimes where I was supposed to be, other times, I was anywhere I wanted to be.  That's just how it is when your left on a short leash and you get the scent and feel for a little freedom.

I had wildness in me like you wouldn't believe.  And passion.  As a teen-age girl, I wanted nothing to do with that cubbyhole of an apartment.  I wanted air.  And breath.  And life. 

Even moms forget that, what it's like to be young.  Oh, they think they know; even come back to it later in life, when they're recounting their stories, hoping to pass something on; but they forget when it really matters, when their own daughters are burning.

A lot of the times, it was just a matter of getting outside.  Sure, I got outside whenever I wanted, but there are rules to follow and those rules say, "Don't stay out after dark."  I grew up in the '80s.  Remember that?  We were afraid for our candy.

Anyway, a friend of mine lived close enough that we could walk and meet-up half way.  We'd swing by the Stop-N-Go for an ice cream sandwich and ogle the curly-headed guy working the counter. 

Then, we'd head down the street to nowhere.  Nowhere really was the underside of an overpass along a busy road.  In case you noticed a trend, I have a fascination with bridges.

We'd climb up the steep concrete  underside and make a home of rushing cars and passing bicyclists and evening walkers.  It was as good as confession up there.

I don't think anything ever got figured out.  Seems it was probably a route to boy-talk and angst.  But we all have our places we like to go, don't we?  They may even be places right there out in the open where nobody is looking, like hiding a Christmas present under the bed.