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| Ah, memories. When I was young, we had a milkman. The gold milk truck with the bright red lettering - and its driver - are etched in my memory. How my dog, Benny, loved to chase that milk truck up and down our little street, barking at the shiny wheel covers! The neighborhood children were out there, too, especially on a bright summer morning. Sometimes, a game of kickball had to be suspended when the milk truck came down the street. Recently, I saw a Facebook post that waxed nostalgic about milkmen. I had to comment: “Our milkman ran over my dog”. Word count: 100 For Drabble Activity 2024, Week 7 Prompt: A non-fiction work. Essay, memoir, op-ed: creative nonfiction (not just a regurgitation of facts). |
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