It wasn't the score or the number of innings that ended a game, it was a mother calling someone home. With them went a football, a bat, or a baseball. Peter's mother took him and his bat home with a single call. There were no goodbyes, just kids heading off in different directions. Kids that beat you up one day, shared their baseball mitt with you the next. A knockdown playing football ended when they pulled you up after the play. Sometimes they were a bit rough with their two-hand taps, it was just a way of letting you know who they were.
As the game ends, my friend Donny and I get a drink from the garden hose and stretch out in the grass of my backyard. “Make sure you shut the water off!”, mom would call from the kitchen. It takes a while for Peter Rabbit to come from under the rhubarb leaves to join us, he watches us and nibbles on the clover near the garden. Chicken wire keeps him from the lettuce and carrots. I never call him Peter out loud, just "that rabbit," when someone else is near. Nine is too old for that, I think to myself… His ears were reddish pink as they caught the last rays of light streaming through the plum tree. Soon the bats and chimney sweeps fill the pale blue sky, racing about chasing moths and other bugs that only come around at night. Mom switches on the porch light for us and the moths soon migrate to circling that warm glow. Donny points out Mars and tells me all about it. Orion soon appears over our Elm trees and Donny tells Peter and me more about the stars
We lay there looking for the Little Dipper as my brother Mike rides up the driveway and leans his bike against the porch. He climbs up onto the seat of his bike and over the wood railing he goes, disappearing inside without saying a word. Mom, standing at the sink in her apron doing dishes, hands him a towel to dry them. Returning to our search for both the Big and the Little Dipper, a beetle with a giant set of pinchers crawls on to Donny. He quickly slaps it away. “They can bite off a finger!”, he tells me. A kid he knows had a finger bitten off by one. Donny is clearly upset, but also being called home, so he heads for his house. No excuses for his rush to leave, he makes a dash through the Mathew's yard. Their yard and house separates his house from mine. If you're caught cutting through, Mrs. Mathew is on the phone right away to your mother telling her to keep you out of her yard. The thought of losing a finger made him forget all about Mrs. Mathew.
Peter Rabbit and I were left alone there in the grass, taking in the warm summer night. Mike has turned on the radio in our house. Gang Busters is on the air, signaling it's 8:00 o'clock. Dad will be putting down his crossword puzzle to listen to the radio and mom will be at the sewing machine, making a new dress or shirt for one of us kids. My sister, Pat, at the backdoor, tells me it's time to come in. Standing up to go inside I realize I missed seeing how Peter got into the garden. Standing there I can see the glow of Mr. Mathew's cigarette - he can only smoke behind his garage. I tell Peter not to eat all the lettuce, mom won't like it if he does. “Who are you talking to?”, my sister asks me from inside the kitchen screen door. I tell Peter to watch out, Mrs. Martin's cat is out prowling about. “Get in here!”, my sister calls holding the door for me.
