Single Wide Sidekicks

As a child, you never give much thought to the location of your home or how it will affect you as an adult. For better or worse—it’s home. It’s a place to store your toys, steal snacks from the pantry, and hang out with your dead friends.

I spent my childhood growing up next to and swimming in the Potomac River. The same river that President John Adams skinny-dipped in for over thirty years. Uncle Johnny was right about the therapeutic values of a cold plunge in the Potomac. The only difference between John and me was that Mr. Adams was never raised in an old single-wide trailer parked in an abandoned graveyard. Our memories are not the same.

In retrospect, I thought it was normal. I imagined children everywhere enjoying a fried bologna sandwich and a tall glass of red Kool-Aid while contemplating the difficulties of grade school with a headstone. My friends were faceless, but they lived life to the fullest—or so I imagined. Two were brave soldiers who fought during the Civil War. One was a ruthless pirate who sailed the treacherous seas in search of gold. A group of headstones off to one side was for an expedition of cartographers who mapped the Allegheny foothills. Although these individuals lived incredibly adventurous lives, I found them very humble and attentive listeners.

My friends would listen to anything that spewed out of my mouth. We would have long discussions about girls and how they were so frustrating. They would laugh as I would proclaim my latest crush immediately following the rant. On the nights that my old man would come home drunk and beat me, they would spend the entire next day just listening in silence. They were good friends.