< by Brennan >

I grew up at 1206 Scotland Terrace in Newport News, VA. A quaint, comfortable house with a good backyard and tons of memories.

Sifting through a bevy of memories from what seems like another life at this point, I couldn’t decide.

I wanted a story that captured the magic of Scotland Terrace, the sense of boyhood imagination and adventure that comes with the house you grow up in.

Then, like a sneak attack from a Super Soaker, I remembered our epic water wars that would take place up and down our street; every yard was game, every house a potential enemy base.

I was on a team with my younger brother, waging the war as best we could against kids who were older, bigger, faster.

*SMACK* water balloon to the face.

*STING* a fully pumped Soaker laying waste to the top layer of your skin.

*CRASH* slipping all over the yard, your feet slick and wet.

When it was all done we realized we had failed a cardinal rule: always bring a towel. Our neighbors came to the rescue, lending us two. We trudged down the street, sopping wet and cheerful.

I figured we would take the towels back another time. For my brother, he couldn’t stand being in anyone’s debt.

As I climbed into the shower to wash off, I glanced out the window onto the street.

*ZING* Naked brother, towel flying behind him, returning the towel he was grateful they had given him.