'here! here!come quick, they're here!'

i was trailing rope and twine and plastic handle as my fingers knotted and unknotted to keep my kite in the air. i was running forward, my eyes blinded by sun.

running, running for his voice. had he found the robins or was it another treasure this time?

the urgency became thicker and more muffled as i grew closer to it. 'are you in the hedgerow?' i giggled, not feeling the brier on bare skin and skirt as i made my way into the dugout that we had created behind the old schoolhouse, now abandoned for more space.

'is it the eggs?' i asked breathlessly.

'no, dummy. it's the milk i stole from the back of uncle joe's truck this morning while he was shooing the cows on. here's your bottle: i'll swap you for a mud fight.'

i was thirsty. the mud was further down the road. maybe he'd forget. 'ok,' i said, sidling in next to him.

a van swished past, upsetting the hedge temporarily. our eyes peered out at the disappearing tyres.

i would walk a mile if i knew you were waiting in the hedgerow on a sunny afternoon again. the milk of childhood lingers in my mouth.



{the prompt for this piece was to take a memory from your past and contextualise it into your present. clifford, my best friend from childhood, and i would dig underground tunnels in the bottom of their house. we were able to do this because the foundation of the house was littered with trap doors and passages. it was the greatest delight for the two of us to hide away from his little brother, matthew, who was set on spoiling any form of fun we tried to have without him. i took this memory and set it into donegal where calvin and i were living at the time: a colder climate, farm land and hedgerows everywhere with winds that could lift any kite. the old school house down the road from our house was one of my favourite abandoned places to explore.the image is entitled veryware by max slowik.}