The Kids Across the Street

I was moving some stuff around for the oldies and found old photos. An excuse to traipse down memory lane.

Our neighborhood was filled with kids. I spent most of my time with the kids across the street. If memory serves -- if not, someone will correct me -- I was 4 or 5-years old when we moved in. The oldest son was a year older, the younger son was my age and the daughter was a year younger than me. Our parents were great friends and they still are to this day.

Babysitters used to throw us in the tub together. We dared each other and we knew to take the dare. The oldest child used to have asthma attacks. The babysitters never knew what to do but we kids did. We handled it. We could be super mean to each other. The middle child punched me in the stomach once. It hurt. We played games in the basement and ran around the neighborhood. The daughter and I competed in numerous things. Of course, I always thought I won.

I run into them occasionally. The last time was my goddaughter's graduation party. I watched her with her husband and three little boys. I had a flashback to the year we both got married. She's still married to him; I am married to someone else.

She won.