It’s the height of Summer in the mid 90’s. There’s a hot, sticky feel to the air. The humidity insulates the morning. The crime takes place in a small government housing complex in Southern Indiana. Rows of red brick townhouses and 1 bedroom apartments, built like a fort in between a concrete jungle to the West and and rows of corn fields to the East.
Two Midwest kids. Bored. Left unsupervised, because their only parent had to work. No school teachers herding us like cattle. Aimlessly wandering around the premises, trying to find something to bridge our imagination to the real world.
An old Taurus and a young Sagittarius, were a duo made for this type of crime.
Thin and taller, The Taurus, he led the way. My short, muscular legs that were more like a pony than a horse, followed his lead.
A horse who didn’t yet know her power, so she hung with the cows.
Sweat dripping down our youthful skin, we found our first victim; a large pile of white mulch bags.
We ran over with glee, our imaginations leading the way. Immediately I took orders from him to stack the heavy mulch bags on top of each other to make a wall. We were going for a “Great Wall of China” aesthetic.
We would create a wall to hide behind where no one could see us. The perfect place to sneak attack one of our friends looking for us, or an innocent neighbor in the wrong place at the wrong time.
They say the best things in life are unplanned, but if you follow the little, subtle messages your heart sends you everyday, rest assured the things you wish for will show up exactly when they were supposed to — and probably even better than you originally thought.
Well, that’s what happened in our coup.
Our opposition, a slender, late 40s/early 50s woman who let cigarettes & alcohol have their way with her, opened her window and aimed fire at the wrong gang.
”HEY! PUT THOSE BACK WHERE YOU FOUND THEM. GOD DAMN IT! I’M CALLING MAINTENANCE RIGHT NOW!!!”
Her raspy voice screamed some more curse words through the screen.
I looked at him for advice, as he looked at her for revenge.
I could see the steam start to flare from his nostrils.
I kicked my hooves with excitement.
He focused his gaze up at her window long after she disappeared to snitch on us. Processing. Calculating.
”Follow me.” He ordered without looking my way.
I obliged.
The horse & bull, off to teach someone 5X our age a lesson.
As I realized he was leading us straight into the enemies apartment building, my 6 year old self questioned what emotion I was feeling:
Was I scared?
Was I regretting following him?
Was I really…excited?
30 years later, I still struggle defining the feelings.
With our senses high, we walked — like two soldiers in the jungle — inside the building.
It’s dark.
The smell of different scented candles, wet dog, and various types of cuisine coming from every apartment filled the air.
He stood before the first step of the staircase, looking up the same way he did at her window outside. He was calculating which apartment door led to her, based off of the perch she fired the first shot from outside.
He turned around to walk back outside, this time in a hurry. He gave me no direction. I looked at him walking back outside, back at the stairs leading to her apartment, and made a game time decision to follow him back outside.
My intuition serves me well.
Back in the late morning Sun, he ran around the side of the building and grabbed an oscillating sprinkler that was watering a field of grass.
Charging into the beads of water shooting into the sky, he took a gentle sip. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand still covered in mulch, then proceeded to grab the green hose and fold it in half — putting a kink in the flow until the sprinkler had nothing left to give.
I watched him with admiration.
Like a soldier getting orders from my commander in chief, he explained to me what would happen next:
”Hold this. Squeeze it tight. Don’t let any water come out!”
I nodded.
”I’m going to take the sprinkler upstairs to her front door.”
I nodded.
”When you hear me scream, drop the hose.”
I nodded.
”Ready?”
I didn’t think twice. I didn’t ask questions. I nodded.
I stood there alone, holding the kink in the hose as he strung the long line of green hose back through the apartment entrance, up the stairs, and straight towards her door. I started to feel us run out of line. His pull was starting to un-kink the hose. I started to feel the water pressure intensifying. I wasn’t sure how much longer I could be a human dam.
Where was he?
Why was he taking so long?
Did he find the right apartme….
Just when I felt G-force power against my little hands start to release water pressure out, I hear, to this day even, the loudest high pitch scream I’ve ever heard in my life.
He truly could have won an emmy for it.
My que.
I drop the hose.
Her front door flies open in panic.
Water instantly GUSHES through.
The green hose thrashes around like a snake getting stepped on.
I follow the water.
I run to the apartment entrance to see where my commander in chief is. No soldier left behind.
I spy his shaved head of blonde hair. He’s smiling ear to ear, running as fast down the stairs as his skinny twig-like legs will let him. The sun hanging out with me at the front door meets his blue eyes.
GO GO GO! HAHAHA, GO!!!!! he shouts at me.
I can’t.
I must see the fruits of our labor.
I hunch down and take a few, slow steps up the stairs.
I see the top of her frizzy hair. Another high pitched scream drowns out with a mouthful of sprinkler water, echoing down the hall.
It’s her. Getting soaked. Omg. Watering her apartment like a bed of flowers. Water coming out of the window she started this war from.
I cover my mouth to giggle, and run like a bat out of hell.
He was already home and cracking up in the kitchen.
”Did you hear her scream?!” I say in-between breaths, after running and laughing at the same time.
We grab popsicles and revel in our victory.
The story ends with the police showing up to our townhouse.
I don’t remember if we got in trouble, or if charges were pressed against our mom.
Sorry mom.
All I remember was the team work, loyalty, and fun I had with my brother.
I wish I could locate that woman and offer to shoot her a Venmo to replace all of the things in her apartment that may have been ruined by the sprinkler.
Or maybe, just maybe, she learned to let kids be kids.
Messes can be cleaned.
Mulch bags can be put back to where they were.
Childhood memories…. those are things that can’t be replaced.
Happy Full Moon!
-SP