Nameless Hour

“Zack’s loose again! Let’s bring him back!” My siblings and I race through the door, wrangling the giant yellow lab by his bright blue collar, rightfully returning him. Heading back home, we wait for dusk.

Put out after dinner with the other kids. We lay out the rules. We pick The Hunter. Heading into the dark to find our spots. Hoping to not be found. We sit silent. Motionless in those moments. Not knowing how truly lost we’d eventually become. Stuck between the never knowing and the always wondering.

T H E D I S T A N C E S W E A R E R U N N I N G B E T W E E N O U R B A C K Y A R D S I S G E T T I N G F U R T H E R . . .

Hoping for a minute to be those kids again. Carefree in the sweet air of a summer night. Small and safe. When the yards seemed bigger, trees perfectly placed in the spots of bases, meant to be ran around. When The Manhunt seemed less real. When getting caught was fun. Seeing how long we could make it before getting summoned back inside. One by one. When time seemed endless on Weeks Avenue.

The hardest part of life is how it goes on through tragedies even when we hope it would stop so bad. While we ~ Hope to hide in the right spots. Hope the right people find us. Hope for ways to make it through. Running those same bases. Over and over. Without losing ourselves. In the gaps that grow. As the gashes become greater.

The Hunt is over now.

I hope you’re hiding safe. In that perfect spot, I hope you found peace.

Forever on Weeks Avenue – 1/25/2025