you can never go home again

Do you ever think about when you were a kid? I always think about the summer. My brother and I would ride our bikes around the neighborhood and pretend we were going on a great journey...so great that we needed water bottles. We would ride all the way to the closest 7/11, each buy an icy and if we had enough money - our Mom a rose. You know, the ones they sell all by themselves with the little capsule of water attached at the end. We would try to balance these prized beverages on the tops of our handlebars all the way home, while one of us was in charge of keeping the rose from harm. We were so free and safe. The hot cement would stab at us from the sides of our flip flops and our shirts would sag with perspiration. I always think of my brother and me like this - innocent and playful - unafraid of the future and all that adulthood brings. I don't know, I catch myself wishing I could go back to that moment and feel the icy going down my thoat and the sun on my shoulders - knowing that Adam was with me and unconcerned about anything else. We were a pair - riding our bikes home, icies in hand and a rose sticking up from someone's back pocket.