Every child of nine knows br the universe is a jagged shape br edged by home and park br and school and market - br at least that’s the way I knew it br br and all the world’s kids br went to Kinney school br and everyone's dad br worked at Lincoln Park Tool br while mother stayed at home. br br So my world shook that evening br as I speared my peas br when father broke news br that we soon would move br to a distant galaxy br at least a dozen miles away - br entirely peopled by aliens. br br Well it wasn’t so bad after all - br my brother and little sister br were allowed to come with us br and we kept the same grandparents too. br New friends popped up everywhere br like rainbows of tulips in May. br br The house was all fresh and new br but it had no lawn as yet, br so a rusty old dump truck rumbled up br and left us a mountain of soil. br br Needing no invitation, br I grabbed a shovel and used it br moving and spreading br and didn’t stop 'til dinner br then went back and shoveled ‘til dark. br br The pile was nearly flat br by afternoon next br when Dad came home br in his brand new fifty-three Ford br and steered it right up the driveway - br hitting the horn to call me over, br “Son I need your help.” br br Dropping my shovel br I sped to the open trunk br and stared in shocked disbelief. br In a squeal of ecstasy br known only to nine year old boys br I circled Dad's waist with my arms, br then gratefully unloaded br the best yellow scooter br of any boy's wildest imagining.