Growing Pains
There’s a little boy, nine years young and sick with wonder, who grows up on William Ave. The little boy doesn’t have a name yet, not one that matches the face he sees when he looks in the mirror. But the little boy does have a big, red, anatomically incorrect heart, and lungs filled with the potential to expand beyond his breast bone, and bright brown eyes the color of mud and sticks. The little boy also has a backyard. And when you’re a little boy, backyards are perfect for adventures. Backyards have tall, uncut grass for critters to hide in, and weeds to stomp through, and flowers to pick for imaginary lovers. Backyards have huge, tall fences that hide you from your neighbors. Backyards have balconies that are also castles and pirate ships and bridges, and backyards have pools that are also oceans and rivers and floods. Front yards are okay too sometimes. Front yards have semi-circle driveways that wrap around the giant tree, the kind of tree that’s somehow woodier than al...