A short story I wrote, copied word for word, letter for letter. My Mom found some things of mine she had packed away. I found this refreshing and innocent. Whew, we grow so fast...I can almost remember writing this, and wondering how to spell Henry. Obviously I never found the right spelling. I'm thinking I was in 4th grade...I don't know? Which by the way, I got an S- for the word "hurts." Henery
"Henery is my friend tree. He is 29 years old. When he frist was planted here at Westminster Elemintray School, he thought it would be kind of nice. He said it is nice. Henery said he was a little lonly here without someone to talk to. He is getting enogh food and feels fine. When the wind blows his leaves he said it tickled. I asked him if it hurts when a cat sharpens its claws and he said yes very much. Henery is kind of afraid of the dark. I asked him if he knew which tree was his mother he said he didn't."