The three of us, we decided to drive, to grab the keys to my car and head to a city we hadn't seen.

Well, that's mostly true.

I can lie on the grass, let the sun warm me through the breeze and grab deep breaths of sweet pollen air. I can lie here, and I can let my mind drift no further than the prickly green in my back or the story-swearing crusty kids a breath away.

They are all huddled around a man-sized cardboard box, smoke snaking out from their mouths toward a sour looking middle-aged couple. They seem happy and I like watching them.

A bicycle, of course. It would be, they're building it in the park. It must have come in the box. I wonder if they carried the box here. Of course they did, how else would it get there? But I guess I'm wondering if it came in a box from a store down the street or if it was ordered and mailed.

I wonder if putting a bicycle together is difficult. I can barely tighten my own breaks or change a tire, but they look more bicycle knowing than me. I wonder if they think I'm too clean, if I'm casual enough to join a group of story tellers like them? I wonder if they tell stories..


I'm twenty and I'll never be old. I'm twenty years old and I'll forever be young. I can take deep breaths of this air and life is only as deep as the distance I can stretch my toes toward the sun. It isn't far, I've got the shortest legs I know.

Blake and Ian sat down beside me. I didn't notice them coming, I didn't remember them saying they'd join at all. But it's ok, I like them and they joke young. Their smiles are still light and I giggle often at Blake's recent mustache. They're safe. It's Saturday, so no one will mention work or school. It's mid weekend and the sun is shining and there are crusty kids building a bicycle and I'm breathing in pollen and we're twenty and I'll never grow up.

My dress is too bright and I've put on three patterns and I almost put my hair in braided pig tails. Today is one of those days I'm fighting it hard. If there were clouds I'd be trying to find shapes in them, or a daisy and I'd be picking off love and love me not petals.

They hug me, but somehow these hugs aren't giggly. There's something weighty in their hands and I pull back to look at a squirrel. Squirrels are brilliant, always nimble and delightful to watch. But I notice this one has a shrimpy tail, like something big and mean tried to..

Blake's mouth is moving and his voice isn't jolly. He found out Lucy was pregnant. I knew that. I start thinking about babies and spring time things and giggly spit and wonder why yellow is a gender neutral color. It seems pretty clear that yellow is feminine. Well, I guess it might not be. She's young, but she's older than me by three months. Which makes her twenty one. But a little one will bring her back a few years. How can you be old with a little new pink toed baby on your hip? I guess she'll have to grow up, but a new one gets to be young. I guess that's how it works. One day I'll have a baby and I won't be so young anymore, but she will. A little baby girl will be young and beautiful and she won't know that the middle aged-couple doesn't like the crusty kids. She'll think they everyone loves everyone and that the smoke curling from their stomachs is magic for big kids...

Ian's mouth is moving now and I don't know what he's saying. Something about an abortion and how she didn't tell anyone. Something about her being worried about not having enough money or being able to finish school. Ian has his hand on Blake's back and Blake is crying. Why is he crying? Babies are wonderful and they don't know about the bad things that I'm trying to forget about. Blake's eyes are a story I don't want to read. I couldn't understand his words because I'm crying la la la in my ears, but one look in his eyes and I understand it all.

I don't want to, I'm in the park wearing a bright colored dress thinking about bicycles and squirrels and I know that Lucy lost Blake's little girl. Lucy lost Blake's little girl.

Those kids smell terrible and their bicycle is probably a fixed gear. I'm sneezing from the pollen and the grass stained my strange colored dress. Something big and mean probably should have finished off that squirrel and with no clouds in the sky I'm sure I've gotten sun burned.

My hug is frantic and I struggle to hold like I haven't just lost my world. I'm twenty years old, I'm too young to know about best friend's losing their children or squirrels getting eaten. At this point his hug is holding me and I feel defeated. I should be comforting him, but the three of us are one hug full of disbelief.

Much is blurry and few words were said. In the end, three kids sat in a park and cried because Lucy. Well Lucy lost something we would have loved very well. Ian asked if I wanted to go get icecream. I don't want icecream, I'm too old for icecream.

He says it's for my birthday and he's sorry that today isn't how we planned. Today I turned twenty-one. I want ice cream and to pretend to be young.