Down Dury Lane

Part 1- Down Dury Lane

Have you ever been down Dury Lane? Or as the locals call it Blueberry Lane?

Well it's a friendly little street, all neatly done up houses lined in rows, nicely mowed lawns with flower beds arranged with pretty blossoms from left to right. Trees all cut to look natural yet kept, slabs of concrete make up the sidewalk that go up and down the lane ending at the ballpark on the east side. The sun is always shining bright making it seem almost too perfect down Blueberry Lane, though all these things sound quite quaint but it's the people that make it perfect.
Mrs.Chandler swayed her hips along with the faint beat of the radio that was set on the local radio station, she hummed with the song as she finished up making her signature blueberry pie recipe that was given to her. Mrs.Chandler was a nice, beautiful woman who's only flaw was how she thought, she was traditional to say the least. Mr.Chandler saw and thought the same, traditional. Views on things like politics, economy, how to raise a child was something that they agreed upon with almost no side talk, though that's what comes from her mouth, though only her head knew the truth.
The faint thumps of little feet had appeared and seemed to come closer, they hit against the oak wood floors until it was right behind Mrs.Chandler, bright blue eyes glazed up at her as the smell of sweet blueberries filled the kitchen.
"Jack how many times do I have to tell you, take those nasty shoes off at the door" She turns her body, having her back facing the counter as she looks down at her nine year old son. Her hands go on her hips shifting her weight onto one side.
"Sorry Ma," he says as he slips the old shoes off his feet that were covered all over by dirt, mud, grass stains, something yellow that no one knew what it was and dust.
"Just forgot"
He put his shoes down at the back by the screen door before coming back over to his mother having a little bit of dirt on his face and clothes, he pulled out a chair at their old table and looked out the window.
The street wasn't bare, it never was. Children of all ages played, some older and younger than Jack, all of them fooling around with smiles on their faces. Some adults were out mostly doing yard chores and making sure the young ones stayed out of trouble. His mother had now turned down the radio and had come over to Jack with a white glass saucer that held a piece of fresh pie. She had placed in front of her son and placed her hands on her hips once again.
"How come everytime I see you, you have some kind of dirt on your face" Jack didn't think twice before he ate the pie and didn't say anything knowing how his mother would react.
Having to explain to his mother where he got the dirt on him he knew would get him in trouble. Before he had sat here enjoying the sweet pie he had been out playing in the forest behind the Muffin's house. Jack was out as his mother called it "Frolicking where you shouldn't"he had been waiting for his best friend Mathew who never showed up.
Someone caught his eye as he watched out the window, Jack saw Mrs.Muffin. She had always been around the neighbourhood friendly and welcoming but Jack had never really noticed. He had met her a few times mostly when her husband would coach the youth baseball league, well used to anyway. Mr.Muffin had died of mysterious causes two years ago making Betty Muffin a widow, leaving her lonely in the Muffin's estate. Jack heard his mom's words blurred to a hum as his focus stayed on Mrs.Muffin and the outside. Without realizing he opens his mouth to say
"Ma, who's that?" He asked, still looking out the window,
"That's Mrs.Muffin, haven't I told you it's rude to stare." she says plainly cleaning up the mess "Her husband used to teach your youth baseball remember."
Jack did remember her husband, but he always got an off feeling from her when she did appear. "Does that mean her name is Blueberry Muffin Tin because her husband was the muffin man?" He asks turning his attention away and back to his mother who was looking at him as she took the white saucer to wash, Jack thought back to the time when he played in the league, they had called Mr.Muffin the muffin man because of the old nursery rhyme.
"No of course not, her name is just Betty Muffin but you'll call her Mrs.Muffin out of respect," she said leaning her back against the counter.
"Now go out and play before I make you do your chores for the rest of the afternoon" She laughs with her words as Jack raises up from his spot and grabs his ball and shoes before racing out.