Member-only story
A HOME ALONE STORY
Memory From A Previous Generation
Way way back in childhood, I did a forbidden thing
As a child, more than I can now understand, I found myself at home alone.
At an incredibly tender and extremely young age.
Where were my parents?
Dad worked.
My brothers?
With Mom? I don’t know.
I just recall I had the house all to myself.
How does one explore his own home?
By digging into adult stuff, of course.
I wanted to know, I wanted to appreciate, adult things.
Like the cabinet in the living room.
Keeping it stealthy, keeping it dark, I opened that forbidden cabinet.
Inside were fancy-bound books.
But not books.
Opening the gold-embossed covers, I found large round discs encased in paper sleeves.
A round, cut-out, central hole in each sleeve revealed markings to identify what lay inside.
Most of these, I couldn’t understand.
One, however, had the word blue in it.
