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I see her—short skirt, eyes sharp, movin like she owns the block. “She’s got a pistol in her purse,” I think, quotin Robert Ford’s sneaky ass. I’m sweatin, heart racin—half excited, half pissed at myself for overthinkin it. What if she robs me? What if she’s a cop? Man, I’m trippin. “You’re too late, mister,” she says, sassy as hell, and I’m like, “Nah, I’m right on time, baby girl.” She laughs—score! That’s my in.

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I gotta mention that rusty ol’ bridge over Cottonwood Creek. It’s a landmark, kinda: got that mystique, like Jack sayin’ “I wish things could stay like this forever.” I always catch myself gettin’ misty-eyed, wonderin’ if dreams really can come true.

Annual Ceremony to Honor Local Hero Rosamond Johnson at Johnson Beach