Driving home this evening from an evening out (I went to Barnes & Noble) ......
I drove by the house that (excluding the homes I grew up in), I've been inside more than any other.
My best friend's house growing up.
The memories and flashbacks ......
His older brother charging out the front door wearing his high school football jersey in an effort to playfully intimidate and rough us up in his crazed linebacker style as we shot hoops in the driveway.
The time we were playing football in the field across the street and my friend broke his leg.
I've experienced moments of guilt over the years because I missed the tackle and it was the next guy's made tackle where we heard the loud snap of the bone breaking, followed by the longest second or two of silence where we all knew someone was hurt ..... and then the screams of pain.
If only we could go back in time and reverse history and I make the tackle.
The break would have never happened.
Visions of my first car, an early 70's-something model Datsun (Nissan) and parking in the street in front of that house.
The time his younger brother uttered a bad word and his mom demanded to know where he heard such a word ..... and he threw my buddy under the bus with blame. 😂 .... "Peter told me."
His old phone number.
Funny how I can instantly recall that number from the 1970's but if asked right now, might struggle with remembering my current cell phone number.
Listening to Moody Blues, Santana and Beatles vinyl records in his bedroom.
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