Bikers Were Painting My Dead Mother’s House Pink At 4AM And I Didn’t Know Any Of Them

Walt came back the next Monday. Brought a friend. My mother fed them both. They fixed her gutters.

The next Monday, four bikers. She made pot roast. They raked her yard and patched a hole in the garage roof.

Within a few months, it was a standing appointment. Every Monday. The crew would show up at noon. My mother would have lunch ready. Soup in winter.continue reading …