Mike, my next door neighbor

When I met Mike, he was barbecuing bratwurst and had a beer in his hand. He barbecued every night from the day I moved in until the first snowfall. He also played radio music every Friday, Saturday and Sunday night when he was home. I thought he was the park asshole - what's called trailer trash. But after the first winter snowfall, our relationship changed. I returned home from school late with the carport covered with ten inches of snow and only a broom to sweep it clean. He came over and helped clear the carport with me. My opinion of him changed that evening.


Photo © 1996 Mark Haven

cover page | story list | thumbnails | comments