I could feel the chilling, winter breeze brush my face as my miniature legs moved as quickly as they could.

“Get back here!” I yelled to my cousin, the robber, as he dashed around the corner of the garage and into the gravel. I heard him chuckle as he left my line-of-sight.

I could smell the homemade lasagna that was being made through the window. I could practically taste the gooey, melted cheese being cooked. However, I didn’t pay any attention to that because my cousin, his stride never slowing as his hair bobbed up and down, was gaining distance.

Slowly, as my lungs could take no more, I slowed to a stop. He put his arms up in victory and slowed down, too. That’s when I took my chance, and used a great burst of energy to grab him. “I gotcha!” I was squealing like a pig with excitement.

“You’re a Cheater! You gave up; that means I won!” he complained loudly.

“No way, I was just faking!” I retorted. So he grumbled, a disappointed look smothering his face, as I dragged him down to the makeshift jail. I had won.

That was one of the great memories from my grandma’s house: Cops and Robbers. My brother, my two cousins, and I loved that game! I vividly remember down a hill in the yard and having my legs buckle from going so fast, or using a semi-circle of juniper bushes as a jail cell because of the similarity. I had so much fun there as a kid, and I’m so lucky I had cousins that were there with me.