We only lived on Keltwood Cove for a couple of years, 1973-1975, but those years are packed with memories. It was here I felt the first hints of jealousy when a neighbor girl garnered the attention of a neighborhood boy. It provided my first encounter with a boy who was mean just for the fun of it; One of those smash-frogs-against-a-tree-and-laugh boys. I’ve often wondered whether he ended up in a treatment center or prison. Keltwood Cove was where I had my first and last non-white best friend. In 1975 my parents divorced and we moved across town to a neighborhood with a private pool, then to Pasadena, Texas a few years later, a town with a KKK presence. I’ve often wondered if I would have recognized my own inherent racism sooner if we’d stayed in Little Rock.

What does this week’s writing prompt inspire for you?