How Boys Learn

We moved to the farmhouse, spent the rest of the summer camping on a mattress in the front parlor. For water we hauled plastic jugs filled at the spigot by the barn. I fixed broken windows and mowed the crabgrass. The old house didn't really deserve much more, just the basics, keeping the rain out and removing obvious tripping hazards. It had never had a proper indoor bathroom, just a noxious two-seater outhouse in a shed past the kitchen door. It was the primitive life, not much better than sleeping under a bridge overpass. But we were young, we were passionate, we made love whenever we wanted. The stoic rustication seemed to intensify the fantasy of freedom and romance.