My Friend Pito
I was very naive when I turned 18 and had many friends who sort of refused to grow up not making arrangements to move out of our respective parent's homes and engaging in activities not worthy of men old enough to attend the local community college where my life was expanding dramatically. My best childhood friend was "Pito", spanish for "whistle" a nickname that I had given him when we were young that has stuck with him until now. Pito's parents had followed mine to Los Angeles where we both graduated from the same high school. Pito and I are now 19 and have been inseparable. For the last year we have rented a two-bedroom house that is 80 plus years old and has a few nooks and crannies that over the years people have hidden as being unnecessary. Exploring our house one day, we found a way to get to the attic, a space on the other side of the bedroom that connects the garage to it through which we saw daylight and were curious as to where it would lead. I