Chalking the Turf

Wriggling out from under the garage door's rubber sweep, I spotted a fat stick of bright yellow sidewalk chalk resting by the recycling bin. If anyone gets to claim this territory, it is going to be me. I grabbed the chalk firmly with both hands, pressed the blunt tip hard against the rough black asphalt, and dragged it down until the grit screeched. Four crisp hash marks, a bold perimeter box, and a sharp arrow pointing directly toward the curb. Official staging grounds, mapped and logged. My hands picked up a dusting of yellow powder, but now the whole driveway knows who drew the lines.