Then there were the kids your parents said you “had” to play with. Do you remember them? It was always the kid who picked her nose and ate it, or the kid with weird allergies, or the kid who snorted and made weird jokes that didn’t make sense. We had one of those. “Play with Yves,” my mother would say, and yes, Yves is a made-up name to protect an innocent. And Yves and I would troop down dutifully to the basement playroom where she would bore me to tears. And I think I bored Yves to death, too.

Gardener on Sherlock Street
February 7, 2014 at 12:26 amFun memories. People come and go through out our lives. Never know when you’re going to make a new great friend.