1988

It was one of those rare days in the south when instead of the scorching sun beaming on your back, you found yourself enjoying a beautiful breezy afternoon.

Living in a small town outside of Memphis, Tennessee only meant one thing. Everyone knew everyone’s business. It meant your mother was a best friend with your best friends’ mother. The mailman was also the local mechanic and your doctor doubled as your gym teacher who also owned the local flower shop.

That was Shelby Forest to it’s gloried extent.

When the news came that a new family was moving into the Meyer house that had been put on sale two years prior, it only took two full days for the entire town to know about it.

It was mid April and the news of a new family coming to town was the biggest topic in town since Mrs. Meyer caught Mr. Meyer in bed with her niece, two years earlier.

The local realtor who coincidently was the local beautician, had gone to Shelby Forest General Store with the news of her sale. A new family of the name Owens, were coming to town.

The news traveled at the speed of light and by lunchtime on the second day, everyone but the men too busy fishing, knew about the family.

The anticipation for the arrival was intense but on that beautiful breezy day the time finally came. The big over-sized, yellow moving truck pulled up alongside the Meyer’s old house.

Two boys and a little girl stood under a tree, taking the moving event in. The blue tag on the yellow truck, that hauled a new state-of-the-art Ford station wagon, read New York.

The ‘new people’ were without a doubt from New York, like the rumors indicated.

Silently the three kids stood across the street watching ‘the people’ as if it was the most amazing display of human activity they’d ever seen. Perhaps at that moment in time it had been just that. Amazing.

“They sure do have a lot of stuff.” Justin was the first to break the silence. With his long frame he stood at least a foot taller than the other two standing next to him.

“Sure looks it.” the other boy added.

“Shh, be quiet.” The little girl ordered, bringing her dirt-encrusted finger to her lips.

“Eww, Amanda. Get your hands away from your mouth.” Justin cringed.

“Go talk to him, Manda.” The shorter of the two boys said for the hundredth time since the moving truck had parked.

“You go talk to him, dirtball.” She retorted.

“You go. And you’re the one that’s dirtier than us. Aunt Lily is going to have a cow.” he replied.

“Why do I have to go? It’s a boy. You’re supposed to talk to him first.” Amanda whined.

“You lost, Amanda. You gotta do it.” Justin reminded her once again that day. A simple game of ‘rock, paper, scissor’ had been her downfall.

The ‘new people’ turned out to have a son their age. According to the rumor mill, the little boy had just turned seven, the previous month.

The little girl eventually did cross the street that day. And the little boy that had been playing with a football across the street, was Jeremy Owens.