Memory #11

Once Stephanie and I stayed at her grandpa's house, which was actually really close to mine. When her mom dropped us off, it was nighttime and he was nowhere to be seen. There is something fun about being alone in someone else's house, especially one that is unfamiliar and dimly lit, so I was pretty pleased to be there.

We set down our bags and kind of stood there for a minute, then Stephanie started looking for the TV remote and asked whether I'd ever seen Dr Quinn.

I hadn't, and subtly indicated a lack of interest.

Her shock was excessive, I thought. But I still didn't really want to watch the show, and began listing other possible activities.

We watched Dr Quinn.

I wore my hat the next day-- my favorite hat at the time, a plain black one with the Nike logo in white on the front.

Her grandpa was... either cleaning out his garage, or getting ready to sell the junk it contained. Because old stuff becomes more interesting right before you discard it, we nosed around in the boxes during the afternoon. I found a bottle of bubbles and secretly wished I could have one of my own.

Then we took a ride around his large backyard. The lawn mower we were sitting on was quite close to the ground and not a "riding" mower, but it was big enough to hold two kids. It traveled at a mind-bending five or ten miles per hour. My hat fell off as we swung into a particularly sharp curve, and the mower mutilated it before I knew what was happening. I yelled out, "Hey!" and somehow we stopped in about twenty excruciating seconds, but by that time we were several yards away from the small, pathetic black lump in the grass. I ran to it, picked it up, and stared at the shreds for a few moments, then returned in silence to the hat mower.