J.B.

J.B was his name,short for Jack Bernard.We met at age 10 at school and church.He was tall and skinny.J.B.had a lot of cool toys,a go cart I remember best.It turned over with me once coming dangerously close to the edge of a lake.Few inches closer I would have been upside down in the lake trapped because getting out of the go cart wasn't easy.But this is not what this story is about.We where 17 years old and word reached me that J.B. was dead.He had been accidentally shot while playing with a gun.Walking into his house looking down at him in his casket I realized life was precious and could be taken away at any time.This next part is the truth,not made up and I was wide awake.A few weeks later standing at the front door of my house looking out the screen door J.B. drove by,his old Chevy Impala made no noise at all.he just stared at me,his face white as cotton.I made a promise then that never would I forget J.B and would think of him daily.41 years have passed.I didn't keep my promise but J.B I still remember and think of you.