My mom took me to the zoo, and it was there I first saw a giraffe. He was taller than most buildings I had seen, and I have seen some very tall buildings. His neck stretched up, up, up, far into the bright blue sky, almost touching the clouds. His fur was a dim shade of yellow, and dark brown polka dots bounced all over him. His long tail stretched toward the ground and swished back and forth, almost sweeping the grass.
I imagined climbing on top of him—I would need a ladder, of course—and riding him through my own yard. On his back, I would be high enough to reach the branches on the trees. I would feel like I was flying through the air! It was then that…
