The street Rebecca Kent lives on is long and narrow. It's not legally wide enough for cars to park on both sides of. If a moving truck pulls in front of an apartment building and parks on the street, car horns will screech until the truck crawls up on a curve, allowing the angry drivers to pass. The street Rebecca Kent lives on is narrow, but Rebecca can't remember a day when cars weren't parked on both sides of the street.
Children play in the center of the street.
They race their sneaker clad feet over broken glass bottles. Sometimes they slip and fall while they run over the roll of a beer can. When it is really hot, the children grab their basketballs, hoola hoops and jacks and take their rhymes, chants and sneaker clad feet into the alley. They laugh, giggle and shout while they call out each other's names. Their loud, rolling voices bounce off the backs of the apartment buildings that line the street, and, echoing, their voices zoom through the neighborhood.