This is another installment of a rough draft of a memoir chapter that covers fourth grade.
To start this piece from the beginning, click here.
It was March when Mom gave Randy the house key for a day. One day we had to walk home together, not go to Centerstream, and let ourselves in. Just this once. My little eight-year-old brother got the key, not me. I walked home with him like it was a regular day, Randy leading the way, and nothing disastrous happened.
The next day, Mom picked us up from Centerstream as usual after she got done with work or therapy or whatever. The sky was dark when we left around five-thirty, a deep cerulean blue, just the tiniest twinge of dusk left in the sky. We got to a crosswalk on our way to the parking lot and Randy started crossing the street.
“Randall James Jordan!” My mom’s voice screeched, “How dare you?” I froze, her voice higher and more hysterical than maybe ever. What was going on?
Continue reading “Walking Home and Crossing Streets – Truth, Lies and the Wicked Witch 11”








