Thing a Week 47: (metaphorically)

This is a piece I wrote for English a few weeks ago, that I liked enough to post. unfortunately, I lost the paper that had my only copy of it, so until I find it, this is all that's available to read. In other news, I've decided to finally get off my butt and do enough posts to fill out my backlog; therefore, in the following days i will be producing three more posts to catch up.

Also, in quick (but relevant) side note, when I consider my writing habits, I'm reminded of a quote by the brilliant Douglas Adams: "I love deadlines. I love the sound they make when they go whooshing by."

There's a telephone pole located right by my house, in the grass by the sidewalk in front. It's a pretty typical telephone pole, as far as these things go, but it recently struck me that I've become so used to it that it's become effectively invisible.
I've lived in the same house for almost all my life, and I've always had this 50 foot tall stick jutting out of the lawn right by my sidewalk. It's one of the things that I ought to know like the back of my hand-but if it comes to that, how many times have you really paid attention to the back of your hand? It's the most familiar things things in our life that we pay the least attention to.
Most of the details I can think of are snatches of memories of growing up: Making snowballs to throw at the