Tree Hugger
Some kids spend warm afternoons in the safe confines of a tree house. For one afternoon, at the tender age of nine, I had the luxury of spending part of mine tied to a tree.
Following a half-day of school, I was walking home, eagerly anticipating my mom’s yummy egg salad when I approached Johnny Ruff’s house. Johnny Ruff was one of the few nice jocks who – on most days – was actually nice to me. Every now and then, he would invite me over to play. However, the problem with this was the moment someone else saw him with me, he conveniently turned against me. So our friendship was, in essence, closeted.
While passing by his house, he stepped out onto the porch and eagerly invited me in. This presented an instant dilemma: delay egg salad sandwich gratification in exchange for a rare opportunity for social interaction? Or…
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