I’m going to tell you a story of something that happened to me when I was a young boy, I know, I know, how old am I now, and can you really trust someone you can’t see, who’s only connection with you is through words written on the screen, words you now read. Well, I can’t do any of those things, I can’t promise the world and not deliver, I can’t make my tale be true, if you choose not to believe, if I wanted to show you proof, I would, but why is that needed, would it not only ruin the story itself, if you found the tale to be true, or false, but would it not also destroy the excitement, if you found the truth, was somewhat, lame?
I can see, my words have already mistreated you, and you seem lost, confused, or, maybe annoyed. I see you ask that question, can I really see you. Of course not, I am making an assumption, maybe it’s because I know I have the tendency to ramble, and the more I do, the less I make sense, especially here, on this medium, one where I am required to recheck what I am doing, to ensure what i want to say is said. but, all I seem to do is keep on typing and abandon the checking, abandon the rereading, to make sure it all flows the way it is supposed to. But, once more, I have lost my way, and must press on, back to the matter at hand.
When I was a young boy, my family and I, I say that as if we all had made the decision, but that is not true, you see, my father had been offered a new job and back in those days, very few women worked, my mother was one of those, I’m not saying she didn’t go to be exhausted each and every night, because she did, there was twelve of us in the house, myself, my five bothers, four sisters, my father,m my mother and of course our three dogs, Skip, Jessup and King., and mother cared for all of us.
Anyway, no more straying off the path, the story, yes?
We moved into a large, run down house at the end of Kersley Street, you may know it, the house still stands, my family, still own it, but, no one has lived there for years, not since mother died, which was some time ago, more than twenty seven years, god time moves so fast, I still can’t believe it’s been that long since she left. But, I’ve done it again, I’ve managed to go off course, and lead you astray from why I started this story, I guess my mind is not what it used to be, and, well, I like to natter on when I have the chance. Maybe I’ll save the story for another time, when you’ve got time to sit and spend a while.