you

The early summer sun is beating down on you. Boys and girls, your friends, are running and playing catch, laughing and chasing each other. You are riding your new bike in circles around them. You got it for your ninth birthday last week. It is blue and shiny. There is a name plate on the back that reads "Robert". You feel free on that bike. It is your first. Before, you had to ride on the pegs of other kids' bikes. You learned to ride on Billy's bike three years ago. Now you don't need to beg rides off of anyone else. For the first time, you can offer anyone you like a ride on your bike.

You chant with the other kids: "No more homework, no more books. No more teachers' dirty looks". It is the first day of summer vacation. The days are stretched ahead of you like a long, cool drink of lemonade. You wonder how you will have time to do all that you want to do. There will be bike riding, of course. Wiffle ball tournaments against the kids from the next block. You're not very good at bat, but you do throw a mean slider. Games of Manhunt and Freeze Tag. Firecrackers to set off at night. Exploring the neighborhoods further away from your safe street, without getting caught by your mother. Catching fireflies and putting them in girls' ponytails, waiting for them to screech and swat at you. A lifetime to live in just a few short months.
You don't know that none of that is going to happen. You don't know how everything is going to change. That you will never be the same. You are riding your new bike, in the sun, surrounded by your friends. And you are happy.