Along the Paso Robles

As I remember it, 

I walked hands in pockets to the front door, opting to press the bell instead of rapping frozen knuckles against the wood.  

& we rummaged in the garage, finding no thing perfectly useful for our noble venture.  

So we walked, instead, two lost boys meandering through comfortable affluence.  

& "it's probably... some old man... never wanted to grow up... tree house..." I said

At this, of course, he giggled.

Insofar as one helps the other to see new things [or maybe just old things in a new way?], we are an unusual duo. 

While, "Babysitter?" she asked.  Or, "Helper?"

But simply, "Friend," I suggested, and his echo confirmed my Joy.