The Boy Behind the Gate
When I think of myself as a child, a picture comes to mind.Actually, it’s a real photograph taken a long time ago. But it’s ingrained in my mind.I’m about 5, I guess — actually, I’m thinking about this — I have no idea how old I am. But my head is just above the safety gate stretched across the back door. To keep me inside, like a pet.I have a brown jumper on, maybe light brown. Actually, I think it’s white. Definitely blue shorts that reveal pale, chubby legs. And — the shoes I remember most —...
