.042 day 32

this reminded me of the south. of southern homes, with dulling paint, and squeaky porch floors from all the years of wear and tear. of oak trees in front lawns collecting memories of the children of the children of the folks who first planted it. of a father who worked in places that left dirt in nails and a mother who hung clean clothes on laundry lines. of children who trekked through familiar woods where branches hung and wet moss stained bottoms of feet.

but in reality, it was just the side of a first floor apartment, a few short feet away from trains tracks. home to, i imagined, a single mother with two children who shared a room and got bused to school each day. who wore keys around necks and ate top ramen after school while doing homework and watching cartoons and waiting for the sound of mom's keys to open the door.