Part 4
Luckily Johnny was there, my every day friend. Johnny was always there. And he always knew everything ’cause Johnny was a whole year older.
“Knocked the wind outta ya huh?” Johnny said.
I didn’t know what he meant, but I knew, by the tone of Johnny’s words that, “This is not fun, but you’ll live.”
And so I did. Lived to run again. Next time I was slammed down so, I knew to just lay quiet. To stay calm. The breath easing back into me by and by, like a ghost of a cloud.
But I’m not running now. I’m sitting in my front yard watching the goings on. I’m still unsure about all this, but I think it’s okay. I could always run into my house if I needed to.
The big boys have made a giant pile of leaves in the middle of the court. The pile is as wide as two yards, it seems to me. The pile is lots higher than my head would be if I were standing up. The big boys seem satisfied with their big pile. Now they work fast and hard, hurrying each other along and making walls; walls of leaves with an open space in between each side.
I’m interested in this development.
I watch intently. They have a plan, I’m sure of it. The walls of leaves kind of weave up and down the street. They look like a giant caterpillar. Like that caterpillar that fell on my head, only not a soft green little caterpillar. But a giant scrunching caterpillar of browns and greens and oranges and reds and yellows and purples too.
I laugh, just to myself, a big giant caterpillar that’s what it is. I watch it continue to take form. I’ve hardly noticed that it is beginning to get dark and cool.
I guess it’s okay, Mother hasn’t put her head out the door and done her yell. Every mother on the court has their own yell.
I like hearing the different calls and yells, except when it’s a call for me and I’m lost in the delight of being a running boy on a summer’s day. Darn I say, or drat. But not if there’s a big person around.
Sometimes you’ll hear “Paul Albert! Paul Paul Albert!” or maybe a cowbell. I like the cowbell. I imagine there are cows roaming the court. My mother has a kind of yodeling yell:
“WY0-Y0-OH-YOHOO”
It’s the best mother call on the court and you can hear it from anywhere. I can’t stay out and keep playing, pretending I didn’t hear it, no one would believe that. Mom’s call travels for miles I bet.
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