August was very English, she still had an accent even though she’d been living in Wilmington for years. As we walked along, she picked up a twig and twirled it between her fingers thoughtfully.

“Do you ever wish that you could be little again?” she asked. I touched the fuzzy green moss that grew on the trees at this time of year. She continued, “I want to be eight years old again and be so happy about reading Island of the Blue Dolphins before the other people in my class. I liked it when things were that simple.”

Then I decided to ask her a peculiar question, “If you could live to a hundred, then age backwards, would you?”

She paused and began to sing softly, “Did you make it to the milky way to see the lights all faded and that heaven is overrated…”

“Ash?” she asked, “Would I go back all the way to 1992 or live backward as everyone continues living forward?” August seemed upset now.

“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got enough growing pains to deal with as it is. But it’ll be okay.”