This my story for this week’s Six Sentence Stories
The prompt this week is Reach
One day when I was about three or four years old I told my mother I was going to runaway and never come back because I was mad at her. She said okay and good-bye, seeming not at all upset that I was leaving for good which probably made me even madder. I knew I was going to a field a couple of streets away because it was next door to my boyfriend Joey’s house and I liked his mother and I was pretty sure she would feed me. So, off I went carrying my suitcase with clean panties and jammies in it, my teddy bear, Guy, and a bucket, wearing corduroys and a poor-boy shirt, Buster Brown shoes, and my bathrobe. I didn’t get far before my Big Brudder Bobby saw me walking down the street, and furious with our mother for letting me runaway, he came running and with hugs and assurances that he understood why I was running away he convinced me to return home with him. Later when asked why I was wearing my bathrobe and took a bucket I explained that I couldn’t reach my coat in the closet so wore the bathrobe that was on the bed and the bucket was for me to use as a potty so the weeds in the field wouldn’t tickle my butt.
This true story about me is just one of a myriad of reasons why
I am thankful for my Big Brudder Bobby.
Photos: Google Images