In a spring breeze, a wooden sign swung idly on one of its chains. It was too weathered and potshot to read with only a capital W and the remains of a lowercase F to be seen. Scrappy hyacinths and daffodils encircled the signpost. I stopped for a moment to smell their sweetness. I wished Mickey was here. Like Mom was, she is into flowers and plants. Mickey would be blowing my ears up about bulbs and tubers, deciduous versus evergreen. Bending down I lifted the head of a flower whose name I used to know. My flack jacket weighs heavy against my back and sweat trickles down my spine. I return to walking.

I scanned left and right. There are rows of identical townhouses and rows of low slung apartments with balconies. Flowering trees and shrubs framed curved parking lots and winding narrow roads. I could tell this was a fancy neighborhood once. There were pool parties at the club house and once little kids rode their bikes up and down these lanes. Old people walked plump dogs. And on summer nights families barbecued on porches and asked each other how their days were.

I can feel eyes on me. I’m decorated with the caution yellow tape wards of the North Phillies but I know for some crazies that is less of a protection and more of a target. My head is high and I walk with purpose. Hands swinging loose at my side I start to whistle. Fearlessness is the ultimate defense. The people who live here take care of the development. I can see a soccer net that has been repaired and I suspect there may be families here still. I remember going to school and the playground during recess. Everything went to shit by the time Mickey was old enough for school. Mom homeschooled us and Phil taught us to trust no one. I whistled by way out of the complex. I can feel the tension my arrival made leach into the air. I survey quickly and while pretending to tie up my boots I dig up a bulb secreting it in my cargo pants pocket. The violet blooms will be long dead by the time I make it home but maybe the bulb will survive. I sing “Zippitty Do Dah as I rounded the corner praying to make Candyland by night fall.