I must have been ten years old. It was still light out but bedtime trumped all. Last thing I remember a squirrel poked its head against the window screen. It looked me in the eye.

…

I can’t believe it. This is great. I scamper over the electrical wire and leap onto a tree limb. I give my tail a few swishes to get my balance and then I jump onto a springy branch. I hold on for dear life as it oscillates back and forth. Once it is steady I scramble to the tree trunk.

…

“I’m warning you. Breakfast is ready. I’m not going to say it again,” my Mom yells. I snuggle under the covers. I try to move my tail. Nothing is there.