Once upon a time, there was a girl I knew who lived across the street. Brown hair, brown eyes. When she smiled, I smiled. When she cried, I cried. Every single thing that ever happened to me that mattered, in some way, had to do with her. That day, Winnie and I promised each other that, no matter what, that we'd always be together. It was a promise full of passion, and truth, and wisdom. It was the kind of promise that could only come from the hearts of the very young.
The next day Winnie and I came home, back to where we'd started. It was the fourth of July in that little suburban town. Somehow, though, things were different. Our past was here, but our future was somewhere else. And we both knew, sooner or later, we had to go. It was the last July I ever spent in that town. The next year after graduation, I was on my way. So was Paul. He went to Harvard, of course, studied law. He's still allergic to everything. As for my father, well...we patched things up. Hey, we were family, for better or worse. One for all...and all for one.
Karen's son was born that September. I gotta say, I think he looks like me. Poor kid. Mom, she did well. Businesswoman, board chairman, grandmother, cooker of mashed potatoes. The Wayner stayed on in furniture. Wood seemed to suit him. In fact, he took over the factory two years later, when Dad passed away. Winnie left the next summer to study art history in Paris. Still we never forgot our promise. We wrote to each other once a week for the next eight years. I was there to meet her when she came home...with my wife, and my first son, eight months old.
Like I said, things never turn out exactly the way you planned.
Growing up happens in a heartbeat. One day you're in diapers, next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a place, a town, a house...like a lot of houses. A yard like a lot of other yards, on a street like a lot of other streets. And the thing is, after all these YEARS, I still look back...with wonder.
