Logan stood on his front porch and surveyed the yard. He had already mown the lawn and weeded the hedge, and had set out the sprinkler, ready to water. His bike lay on the driveway where he left it after finishing his paper route this afternoon, with the bag of elastic bands from folding the papers lying next to it.

A delivery truck turned the corner, then drove past his house, and it somehow reminded Logan that his father would come driving down the street in a few hours. He'd better get everything tidied up before dad got home if he wanted to avoid another scolding about being responsible.

The garage door stood open, with his latest woodworking project still cluttering the floor. That, too, would need to get put away, or perhaps he should finish the project. The design was simple, but elegant - half a dozen 2x4s hammered to a plywood sheet would soon become the perfect jump for his bike, unlike the boards lain across bricks that tended to topple the second his front tire hit it. That didn't seem safe, and that, as his father had pointed out, was not responsible.

The thought of finishing the jump felt exciting, and suddenly a brand new idea popped into Logan's brain - maybe he should become a carpenter! If the jump turned out good, he could mass produce them for other kids in the neighborhood, then other neighborhoods, then he could invent new projects, pay his way through college or trade school with the proceeds, which would mean he wouldn't have to study quite so hard now, because he wouldn't need to earn a scholarship! "Don't worry," he could tell his mother next time she asked whether he had finished his homework, "I've made my own scholarship."

With school and career all worked out, his thoughts proceeded to the next tasks, which included raising a family, he supposed. What else was there? Step one: find someone to marry. Janet, who lived across the street, was pretty cute, and she would probably become even cuter as they grew older. Not that he would admit this to anyone. The topic of girls still made him feel a bit squeamish. Anyway, once he finished the jump, she would surely see him fly off it over and over, and probably feel impressed, whether she was ready to admit it or not. She would probably peek outside from behind the curtains just to watch his daredevil exploits. Maybe he would build an even bigger jump to jump over cars and stuff. How could she possibly not be impressed by that?

And then...then what? He guessed they'd have kids and take them on vacation to Disneyland. He'd teach them to be responsible, too, so everything would turn out right for the rest of their lives.

And then, he would retire. He would sit in his recliner and read the paper. He would take slow walks around the block and chat with neighbors about the good old days. He would complain about politics and prices, about his goiter (what's a goiter?) and his aching back. He would tell and retell stories from his glory days - his youthful victories and heart-wrenching defeats. He would dwell most of all on his regrets, on wasted opportunities never to return, and wistfully wish he could do it all over again.

He would look back at this very afternoon, the day when his entire future began. He would look longingly at the sprinkler sitting peacefully in the middle of the lawn and wish he'd have turned it on, then run back and forth through the airborne water with abandon, setting responsibility aside for just a few minutes, or a few hours, and soaking in all of life's beauty that he possibly could before it withered and vanished from before his eyes.

Logan stepped off the porch, turned on the water, kicked off his shoes and pulled his shirt over his head, then took an eager step onto the lawn, his skinny torso giving a small shudder as the first cold drops splashed against his bare chest.

Across the street, Janet pulled back the curtains just enough to peer out the window and watch.