Times Change. Or, Do They?

The wind swung the wooden gate back and forth throughout the night. Cars passed through town; stopping at all night gas stations, donut shops, bar hopping. Teens packed in Fords, Chevys, Dodge pickups, raced up and down Main Street; daring the cops to pull em over. They should’ve been in bed hours ago. Parents were worried.

And dads were up watching the late late show; waiting on their kids to come through the door. Some would fall asleep, others would put on a pot of coffee. Moms would walk up the halls of suburban homes and make sure the light was on outside; turn off the televisions and sit in the dark; remembering when they were young. Life goes by fast.

The gate kept swinging outside; the metal latch made a clicking noise as it hit the lock-bar. These noises, you never get used to em.

Finally Bobby and Cindy would walk through the door; headlights backed out of the driveways. Where have you been?, parents asked. No answer was always the answer. Teens telling moms and dads they were tired and would talk about it in the morning.

Times change. Or, do they?

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