Drummer Boy

Was talking to my neighbor in the driveway today–her chubby little one propped on her hip.

“Did you hear about Tommy’s boy?” she said, with a look.  “Killed in a car accident–no seat belt.”

I didn’t know Tommy’s boy, even though he lived just a couple doors down. I used to see a bunch of kids–13, 14, long-haired and droopy-drawered, laughing and yelling and scuffling up and down the street. But I never knew one from the other.

I know he played drums–had a band that practiced every Saturday afternoon. Loud, angry drums. Sometimes I’d get irritated, but I never really minded all that much.


About boomergirl47

Retired from the University of South Florida. Love reading, writing, hiking, nature, music, birding, puttering around the house and yard.
This entry was posted in death, emotions, human interest, psychology, sadness, spirituality and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s