Tonight when I came home I noticed a boy across the street hitting a ball off the garage door. I couldn't quite figure what he was doing. I stopped to tell him about the people who lived there before. They had a son who started hitting hockey pucks off that door as soon as he could stand up and walk. By the time he was five he was spending all his free time in the summer on roller skates puck-handling up and down the sidewalks.
This new neighbor boy was a bit amazed at the story and went to say, "Well, lacross is my game." That's not a sentence we hear every day in the Midwest.
No comments:
Post a Comment