Crenshaw

29

Crenshaw and I didn’t chat much during those weeks on the road. There was always someone around to interrupt us. But that was okay. I knew he was there and that was enough.

Sometimes that’s all you really need from a friend.

When I think about that time, what I remember most of all is Crenshaw, riding on top of our minivan. I’d stare out the window at the world blurring past, and every so often I’d catch a glimpse of his tail, riding the wind like the end of a kite.

I’d feel hopeful then, for a while at least, that things would get better, that maybe, just maybe, anything was possible.