The Hideout was a secret place. A little niche cut out of dense hedge. It was close to civilization yet a million miles away. It was another favorite childhood place, close in proximity to the Mimosa. I don't think my mom and dad knew that it existed. We would run and play day after day and find solace in the hideout. When our friends would come over only the most trusted ones were allowed in for a peek. I smoked my first cigarette there. One puff was enough for a lifetime. One of the other important memories of the hideout was the time my brother and sister combined our spending money. Now days referred to as an allowance and bought a newspaper so my brother could teach me to read. I must have been in the second grade. I don't think the venture was successful at that time. I didn't learn to read overnight but I did learn what it means to stick together. To combine efforts for a common goal. It was then that I learned about love. What grater love can there be than giving up your break money to help your baby sister learn to read. As I recall we hid the paper there overnight. A night that it happened to come a big gully washing rain storm. My paper got ruined but nothing could destroy the love shown between siblings during the joyful days of summer spent in the hideout.