Childhood

I stopped short today in the driveway.  It was a scene from my own childhood just staring me in the face.  Different driveways:  mine was dirt and long, uphill and made a great place for sledding.  Hers is cracked cement and sunny, downhill and good for coasting.  Different bikes:  mine had a banana seat and was blue.  Hers is purplish pink and decorated in true Walmart style with princesses (hey, it could be worse...).  But the idea is the same:  my childhood self called it "playing factory"---spinning the wheels, letting the spokes tickle my fingers as they spun, sending dirt through the works, cleaning and polishing.  I'll have to ask her what her game is called.