By Stephen W. Hiemstra
Albany was a place where I learned to ride in a bright red wagon.
We lived on a hill and I dreamed of riding my wagon down it.
Someone told me it was a bad idea.
Someone dared me to do it.
So I rode down the hill steering with the handle.
Until I got to the corner.
where the wagon turned over and threw me out.
I scraped my knee but good.
I cried and cried.
And Mom put a bandaid on it.
Our house had a bathroom with a big tumb.
I loved to run the water and run my electric speedboat in it.
But my sister would always come running and want to play too.
I hated to share my boat—the batteries would run down and
I would not get new ones til Christmas.
So I told her what fun it was to put soap in your eyes—
She cried and cried.
And Mom came running.