Brick Bench Hotdog

Pigtails flying and Mickey Mouse sweaters flailing in the air as kids ran towards their parents.  Like dolls, they were picked up effortlessly and embraced by their folks. 

Me? Nope, I just walked around slowly; surveying the heads of the grown-ups around me while their kids were shooting off the day’s events like mini-machine guns into their ears. 

When I think about it now, it felt like that scene in Saving Private Ryan, where Tom Hank’s character gets stunned by an explosion, and watches the chaos of the beach landing unfold in a dazed, dream-like state. Except no one was walking around looking for their limb. 

I watched the events around me unfold in slow motion and the chattering sounds of children and their parents going off around me like WWII shells.  My bag felt heavier and heavier, and my shoes seemed to sink into the hot pavement.
I couldn’t find a familiar face, “Where’s Pa?” 

Panicked I looked around but only to see the crowd of parents and kids slip into their cars and scooters, leaving me alone in the middle of the hot noon sun. I dropped my head and noticed the old brick bench by the sidewalk.
The red brick bench seemed nice.

So I took it’s invitation and rested my tired little ass down and cried.  An hour later, Pa finally showed up.

“I am so sorry, I completely forgot it was a half-day. Did you wait long? Were you crying?” Pa asked

“Yeah” I said.  “I’m hungry, can we get a hotdog?”

So I got a hotdog. 

And I’ve often wondered at barbeques or at sports events, “What do I like better? Burgers or Hotdogs?”

I think I like hotdogs better, though that has nothing to do with my story, I think hotdogs are awesome!  Especially when you’ve also got a cool can of Sprite to wash it down with!