Under A Crescent Moon

I walked down the road and into the woods tonight. It was dark in the woods. Pitch. Even though I'd never been down that path before, I trusted I would recognize my destination when I came to it. I heard a faint laughing and then low conversation. I came upon the small group standing around a charcoal grill warming their hands.

Introductions are always a little awkward for me, like dreading my turn to speak aloud in grade school. I said my name and described our landmark house, "It's the orange one on the corner with the chickens in front"

"Oh," he paused. "Pirate flag?"

Pause.

'Yeah, we're pirate flag. That thing got tattered to shreds."

I thought surely the neighbors referred to our property as "chicken house" and was surprised to learn that they've been calling it "pirate flag" the whole time.

Comments

[michelle f]

ha! pirate flag.

[Roberta]

I wish we still had it. I think the only picture I have of the pirate flag is one of it wrapped around my waist while I danced with Baby.