things。
It wasn't just the yard。 It was my dad's truck； my mother's car； the family bike that was more
rust than steel； and the fact that when we did buy
something new； it always seemed to e from a second…time…around store。 Plus； we never
went on vacation。 Ever。
Why was that？ My father was the hardest…working man in the world； and my mother worked
for TempService doing secretarial jobs whenever she
could。 What was all that hard work about if this is where it got you？
Asking my parents whether we were poor seemed incredibly impolite。 But as the days went
by； I knew I had to ask。 Just had to。 Every day I'd ride
home from school on our rusty bike； pull past the broken fence and patchy yard； and think；
Tonight。 I'll ask them tonight。
But then I wouldn't ask them。 I just didn't know how。
Then one day I had an idea。 A way to talk to them about it and maybe help out a little； too。
And since my brothers were working at the music store
that night； and nobody was saying much of anything at the table； I took a deep breath and
said； “I was thinking； you know； that it wouldn't be hard to
fix up the front yard if I could get some nails and a hammer and maybe some paint？ And how
much does grass seed cost？ It can't be that much；
right？ I could plant a lawn； and maybe even some flowers？”
My parents stopped eating and stared at me。
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