These are things I remember:
-- The ditch that ran behind the school to that home with the tree house always held the clearest water. I thought it was a river. No one lived in that home, so we claimed the three house as ours. Then those new kids moved in and tore the tree house down and later I learned the difference between a river and a ditch.
-- The first time we kissed was on my bed -- actually, it was a borrowed bed -- but I prefer the next day's story, the kiss in the library in front of Eudora Welty.
-- You used to bring giant ICEEs over late at night. Back then, 85 cents bought you any size. We drank them outside when we should have been sleeping. I do not regret it.
-- After the horse and carriage ran over my toe, after I had lost my jacket on the bus from Costa Rica to Nicaragua, I cussed so loudly I wanted to cry. The van full of 25 people (12 more than it was equipped for) stared at me as my lip quivered. But then you laughed, and I did not. (cry, that is)