DOWN MEMORY LANE
LINDA AND I STOOD on the back seat to look out at the narrow roads on the way to Grandpa’s farm. Our stomachs climbed as Daddy drove up a hill, then plummeted on the way down: a Hoosier roller coaster.
At the farm we raced with our country cousins and climbed the latticed walls of the corn crib. Best of all were the barn kittens. Wild as prairie dust devils, the kittens showed us little more than furry tails and faces from behind a bale of hay, but each one had a name before we left for home.
As the sun sank, Mom woke Daddy from his nap on Grandpa’s couch, where he’d been lulled to sleep by the announcer calling balls and strikes. On the way home, Daddy told us our car ran on horsepower. I was curious about how the horses ate and where they slept. We never saw them, but Daddy said they were there, so Linda and I didn’t doubt.