A CHILDHOOD MEMORY: My brother never learned to jump

After spending all our money on Wacky Packs and Slurpees at the 7-Eleven, my brother Danny and I decide to take the shortcut home. We veer off from the sidewalk and cut down a steep, weedy embankment. At the bottom, three stacked logs hold the base of the hill in place. 

I step out onto the logs and consider the distance to the ground. It’s maybe hip-high to me, but I’m chicken. It might as well be Mount Kilimanjaro. I want to jump, but I’m scared, and then—I leap! For one glorious moment, my body soars until—slap! —the soles of my sandals hit the pavement.