I remember the first story I ever wrote. Well, I don't remember the exact story, just the general gist--a boy who longed for his own horse and how his wish came true. But I remember writing it. I remember adding illustrations. I remember my 4th grade teacher, Miss Jarosz, reading it to the class at the end of the year--and the thrill I felt as I listened to MY WORDS being read aloud to an audience.
When school let out for the summer, family moved to the suburbs and I gave my story to my BFF as a parting gift. This is the same "BFF" who--unbeknownst to me at the time--ratted me out to her mom, who then ratted me out to my mom, when I ripped off a handful of penny candy from the corner deli.
If I ever see that skank again, I'm definitely asking for it back.