I can't remember if I was nine or ten years old. I do remember that it was the last day of the Boy's Camp. It hurt a lot. The day before for some silly reason I had gotten into a fight with another boy.
It didn't take long for the bigger boys to pull us apart and call it a draw, but in truth I had lost. We hadn't talked since the fight either but only looked coldly at each other from across the room.
I knew my Mom was bringing some of her homemade pizzas as a treat for my brother, me, and our friends. Soon I saw her walking up the sidewalk towards the steps of our cabin. She had been bringing these pizzas to us every Boy's Camp for years now. I saw her smile as my brother and his friends all took the big pieces. I thanked her with a smile and started to eat, and then I saw my fight opponent standing off to the side by himself. In that moment something moved in my heart. We talked and laughed and ate. And for some reason unknown to me at the time, the pizza tasted better than ever before.
|
A. Still, I was in a good mood this morning. B. Therefore, I felt rather pleased the whole day. C. I had words with my mother over the summer camp. D. I walked over to him and gave him one of the pieces. E. She made sure, though, to save the last two pieces for me. F. I was looking in the mirror and checking my face for bruises. G. My head still hurt from several blows the other boy had landed. |
