If there was one thing I could bank on when I was a kid, it was that Jason would be on my front porch, waiting for me to finish my supper so we could play basketball.
It was like clockwork.
Every day, Daddy came home from work at the same time — nearly to the second.
Mama would have home-cooked goodness ready 30 minutes later. Then we’d all sit down together and eat.
As long as it wasn’t raining or snowing, my neighbor Jason would be sitting right past the screen door, ready for a game of H-O-R-S-E.