“And all the colors I am inside have not been invented yet.”
― Shel Silverstein, Where the Sidewalk Ends

By Sadie Cracker

When Robert arrived to watch the kids while I ran to Bob’s Mart grocery store I was trailing Jimmy’s bike like a frantic monkey trainer. Except this trainer wasn’t going to let Jimmy fall. Every time he even wobbled I was there to right him.”What are you doing?” Robert said. “Let him fall.”

But Jimmy could get a broken arm or a concussion. Even paralysis was a possibility.

“But he won’t,” Robert said. “Let him fail a little. Your mom did.”

In fact, my mom let me fail all over town as I was free to ride my bike alone throughout Coma–something that seems lost to the dustbin of history.

 Robert promised to protect Jimmy so steered my hip hop-blasting hooptie ride toward the store.

I pulled in to Bob’s  Mart beside a Dodge Dart, which was full of teen boys staring open-mouthed at the hooptie Suburban blasting “Gangsta Paradise.”

As I walked past I could hear the boys laughing. When I turned around to look and realized my sun dress was caught in the back seam of my granny panties I did what any gangster mom would do and flashed them the international mom sign of “shhh.“

Back at the farmhouse Robert sat on the porch with Johnny (7 years old)  reading Shel Silverstein’s “Where the Sidewalk Ends.”

“Where’s Jimmy?” I asked.

“I let him go.” said Robert.

“You did what?!”I was running back to my car as he yelled “you should let him–“

Robert was drowned out by Gangsta Paradise and my realization that I hate Shel Silverstien because no sidewalk should end. Ever.

I tore down the country road and rounded the corner before slamming the brakes to keep from T-boning a cow in the middle of the road. I jumped out of the gansta mobile trying to figure out how to move a cow when I saw Jimmy coming down the hill on his bike. And he’s fine.

 “Hey mom. ‘I’ll race you home.”

 And passes me and he’s gone, rounding the corner and heading back toward our house.

And I am standing here alone.

Standing in front of the cow and I realize my sundress has once again tucked in to my granny panties.

“There are no happy endings.
Endings are the saddest part,
So just give me a happy middle
And a very happy start.”