It was the summer of 1984. I was teeny with an even teenier brother and sister. Dad was driving us home from something when he stopped the car suddenly. The three of us, who probably didn’t even know what a seat belt was, went sliding around the back of the station wagon – like three adorable little bumper cars. I peeped up and noticed we were in the middle of the neighborhood, right next to the park and the elementary school. Dad hopped out of the car, picked something up out of the middle of the road and jumped back in with his new treasure. The 3 of us monkeys climbed over all the seats like ravaged animals to see what he was holding. It was a turtle, a beautiful, shiny green box turtle – roaming the suburban streets of Colorado.
When I think back to that moment, I often wonder if I would be able to notice a box turtle in the street. I’d like to say that I can, but I’m sure Darren is more of the box turtle in the middle of the street noticing type.