I remember once my brother and I would collect marbles. How they were valuable to us. Those were the times that a dollar felt like $50. We would stay at my grandparents so that we could be up to no good the next day, as we headed off early mornings to the business with them. Like Bonny and Clyde we worked. I helped him more than I helped myself; it felt like the right thing to do, always will. Drawing a circle in the chalk dirt placing his bet of valuable marbles with the other bets. I braced myself in the back of the charade. We couldn’t look more mischievous. I always hanged with the boys, being the only girl I didn’t have a variety of choices, but scars and all can tell you stories. He’d measure his distance drawing lines; pulling his best
