roughtin,andUncleCharliefromPhiladelphiahadbeguntocallhernearlyeveryday,expressingaiiriheCoverboysweregoingnowhereasaband.Isearchedforaplausibleexcuse."Imtoooldtogobaow.Illbetwenty-sixApril,aofthestudentsareabunchofeighteen-year-olds.Theyreintoatotallydifferentse."

    "Youreonlyasoldasyoufeel."

    Atthemoment,Ifelt125yearsold.Shesettledbatoherseatandwatchedtherestoftheballgamewithoutanotherwordonthesubjethewayhomethatafternoochedthecarradiooverfromtherockstationtoclassical,andastheorchestraplayedMahler,shelaidherheadagainstmyshoulderandclosedhereyes,listening.

    Tessaouttothepordsatontheswing,quietforalongtime,sharingabottleofpeae.Shelikedtohearmesing,soIsangforher,andthenwecouldfindnothiosay.Herbreathingpresencebesideme,themoonaars,thesingingcrickets,themothsgingtotheporchlight,thebreezecuttingthroughthehumidair—themomenthadacuriouspullonme,asifrecallingdistantdreams,notofthislife,noroftheforest,butoflifebeforethege.AsifeddestinyordesirethreateheillusionIhadstruggledtocreate.Tobefullyhuman,Ihadtogiveintomytruenature,thefirstimpulse.

    "DoyouthinkImcrazy,"Iasked,"towanttobeaposerinthisdayandage?Imean,whowouldactuallylistentoyoursymphony?"

    "Dreamsare,Henry,andyouotwillthemaway,anymorethanyoucallthemintobeing.Youhavetodecidewhethertoactuponthemorletthemvanish."

    "IsupposeifIdontmakeit,Icouldebae.Findajob.Buyahouse.Livealife."

    Sheheldmyhandinhers."Ifyoudontewithme,Illmissseeing