Digital Ink'd

I was taking a walk down my residential street recently when a flash of weathered iron caught my eye. Poking up above a neighbor's inner backyard was a tall, rusted metal ladder. It stood upright, narrow and tall, reaching straight toward the sky. I stopped in my tracks to look at it. To anyone else passing by, it probably looked like a piece of industrial scrap left behind by a careless contractor. But I recognized it immediately. Growing up, we had the same rusted tower planted in our backyard. It stood two feet away from the exterior wall of the house like an unmovable monument. Through decades of changing seasons and vicious winds, it never leaned an inch. My parents never made any attempt to dismantle it or repaint it, even as thick flakes of orange rust gathered along its frame. Back then, whenever I looked out from our second-floor window, I would scan the neighboring lots. None of the other yards on our street had one. Down the enti...