Monday night, I arrived home from work and noticed a familiar looking baby blue Ford pickup in my driveway with what appeared to be either a power trowel or rototiller in the bed. I pulled up, parked my car and veered out my window thinking to myself, No way! There's just no way. I quickly made my way inside trying to remain incognito.
Once inside, My Friend asked me what the matter was. I promptly asked him who that truck belongs to. He said he didn’t know the man’s name, only that he was very drunk and the man was with someone (Jim) who works on the property that we live on. Jim has permission to use the boat on the lake that is essentially in our front yard and, so, Jim and this man were out fishing. I immediately started with the questions: Does the man have a scraggly beard? Is he really skinny? Is he wearing a baseball cap? A t-shirt with a front pocket? Yep, yep, yep and yep. And has teeth are a bit funky. That’s it. The baby blue with a trowel in the back was a dead giveaway. I knew it, though I didn’t want to know it. Right there before my eyes, fishing in my front yard was the Boy Left Behind’s uncle.
So, I hid. For like two hours. Not because I don’t like Uncle G, but because once Uncle G knows where I live, then so does half of the county left behind as well as the Boy Left Behind. And, just because, I don’t want anyone to know that.