My friend George
We called him George, the squirrel that many years ago lived in our neighbor’s tree. Most of the time, we’d see him on the ground as we entered our driveway. But the sound of the car would usually scare him off and send him scurrying back up the tree. The few times that he didn’t immediately take off running, we’d sit in the car and watch him dig for acorns under the big oak he called home.
After a while, it seemed like George sort of got used to our comings and goings. “Maybe we could become friends,” I thought. So I forged a plan and asked my mother to buy a bag of bird seed at the store. At home, I carefully poured a trail of seed from the tree’s edge to the steps of our front porch. I sat there patiently waiting, hoping that George would “take the bait” and begin making his way towards me.
It took several attempts, but one day George did finally start to nibble on the seed and inch towards me. It was painful waiting. He’d nibble, stop for a moment, and then inch forward. It took forever for that little squirrel to get near me. But when finally he did, my heart started racing. This time I felt as though he was going to crawl right into my hands. That’s when tragedy struck.
Out of nowhere, a pesky bumblebee started circling my head. I tried my best, however, to remain motionless, hoping that he’d eventually lose interest and buzz off. But after a few passes around my head — each one getting a bit closer — I couldn’t stand it any longer. I slowly raised my hand to give him a brisk swat and George took off like a rocket. Along with him went my hopes of our ever becoming friends. It was on that day that I discovered the meaning of the old saying, “don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”
Days 12-14 Guide
Be careful not to celebrate too early. Things have a way of changing at the last minute. And unless you expect such change, life will always to throw you curve-balls.
© 2006, Levi Hill