Three baseballs, a Diet Coke can I swiped from Dad’s stash, four soccer balls, and now my sister’s pink bunny stuffed animal.
That’s everything. Or, that’s everything I can remember losing over my mean old neighbor’s hedge since we moved in a month ago.
I understand why that old man would be sore at the Diet Coke can in his yard, but the baseballs and soccer balls? On good days (where I’m happy), I laugh thinking that maybe that old neighbor is secretly a ball player. Maybe he’s working on his hip turn to get around on an inside fastball, or on his upper-ninety PK’s with my soccer balls. On bad days, when I’m not so upbeat, I imagine that mean old man slashing the balls with great joy, shaking his fist at the ornery neighbor boy that can’t seem to keep this stuff from going over his fence and hedge. I imagine that he cackles with evil glee when another ball accidently lands on his side of the hedge near the palm tree.
The old man can keep those soccer and baseballs, I guess, but I could really use him to give back my sister’s pink bunny stuffed animal. It’s her favorite. She hasn’t stopped looking for her bunny since it went missing in September. I didn’t lose the bunny over that old man’s hedge because I was playing with it, I was using the bunny.
You see, I’d put the bunny on the upper right of my soccer goal as a target. I was feeling pretty good that I’d hit it three straight times that day I lost it. I took an extra step back, thinking I’d put some real power behind my next kick and WHACK – I jacked that ball into the upper right side of the net. The only problem was that I sent that pink bunny flying – over the hedge.
Instead of owning up to my miscue, I tried to convince my little sister to move on, telling her that bunny was showing signs of wear anyway. I felt bad all the same.
Today, though, I saw an unfamiliar old man put a box on our front steps. He didn’t knock on the door or make any attempt to talk. Thank goodness, I hid from sight until he was long gone.
When the coast was clear, I slowly opened the front door to a cardboard box filled with three baseball, four soccer balls, and my sister’s pink bunny – everything I’d lost before.
The balls looked new, perfectly white as if they’d been washed. The pink bunny was radiant, it’s color as if it had come straight from Target. At the bottom of the box was a crushed Diet Coke can with a Post-It note attached saying, “Our little secret.”
“I found it!” I shouted at my little sister, holding her favorite pink bunny in the air to her delight.
“Where was it?” she asked, hugging her prized possession tightly.
“It’s my little secret,” I winked.
