I remember

I remember teaching my dog to jump through our first floor window so he could go outside whenever he wanted...a strategy that backfired splendidly when my dad put the screens in for summer. No one in my family ever did figure out what could have inspired the dog to try to jump through a screen.

I remember the kitchen table. Antique oak, my favorite table I've met thus far.

I remember the rows of folding tables and chairs, not matching nor very inviting. Impersonal in their stark arrangement.

I remember skipping school to stay home and bake cookies with my mom and little sister--for no particular reason other than that I was in first grade and sometimes even first graders need a bit of a break.

I remember the mandate "One cookie per person." And the rush for cookies when it came time for seconds.

I remember building a treehouse with my brother so we could have a place all to ourselves.

I remember going to a homeless shelter for English class to serve food.