The summer before I turned four, we moved to a town south of the San Jacinto (a moment of silence, please), and north of Houston.
We lived in an apartment for a short time while our parents looked for a house. I ordered one with stairs…
Maria and I got the master bedroom in this apartment. It was HUGE! I could do 16 cartwheels from one end to the other. Can you believe that???
(You don’t really believe that, do you?)
Well, they were cartwheels performed by a confident three-year-old.
The china hutch came with us, as did all of our toys, thank goodness. I was worried they would get lost in the move.
We quickly investigated all the fun things to do in our area. There was a Mexican food restaurant that put candy in the bottom of the chip basket...I approved of this place.
There was the Ice Cream Emporium, where I ate my first egg salad sandwich, and several hundred vanilla cones. Blue Bell, of course. I approved of this place.
And, there was…wait for it…a POOL! I also, if you don’t already know, approved of this place.
So, surprise candy, egg salad, Blue Bell, and a pool…pretty nice. And I still don’t understand why that other town is so danged famous…
Maria and I thought we were in Heaven. Good food, relaxin’ by the pool, a huge room (with our own bathroom, by the way), and all our toys. Life was good.
Until……the night was shattered by an ear-splitting scream...
MURDER.
Dun, dun, dun...
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