I turned twenty-two a couple of weeks ago. It felt like the airwithin me was being sucked out. Unlike when I was a kid, Ihad no desire to grow older. As an adult, I did not needballoons or candles or a strange clown bending balloon animals.Rifling through the top drawer of my desk I pulled out littletokens of my childhood. I keep these items to remind me of a lifeI swore to protect-the innocence of youth. Back then, I promisedmyself that I would never forget the joys of little things, to containmy stupid immaturity3 in a moment.