"Casey, is your dad around?" I ask the oldest child on his bike in the alley. I have four big, but not yellowed, cucumbers in my hands.
"He's inside," he tells me unhelpfully.
"Whatcha need?" Kenna asks me, pulling her bike off to one side.
"I want to give him these cucumbers."
"Cucumbers! I love cucumbers!" she exclaims. "Watch my bike," she points as she runs down the gangway to go in through the front.
Bruce comes out, obviously pulled from rehabbing some apartment inside.
"Brigitte!" he calls before the gate is open. He pronounces it like the French. I can hear Kenna explaining what's going on as their voices get closer.
"I had these cucumbers," I explain. "Grew them this year, and there's more right now than we will be able to eat." I hand them to him.
"Cucumbers and onions coming right up!" he says enthusiastically, taking the cucumbers. "These are great, we'll eat them tonight. You grew them?"
I nod, pointing up the alley to a roofed in section of my yard. Chickenwire serves instead of glass or something solid. It's my squirrel-proof garden cage.
"We will absolutely enjoy these," he tells me. "Thanks for thinking of us."
"Thank you!" Kenna calls after as I head back up the alley.
"Get your bike," Bruce points out to her. I go back into my wooden-fenced yard and listen to kids continue as kids do, playing in the alley like they have for a hundred years.
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