Kevin Arnold - The Narrator: The next day, Winnie and I came home; back to where we'd started. It was the fourth of July in that little suburban town. Somehow, though, things were different. Our past was here, but our future was somewhere else; and we both knew, sooner or later, we had to go. It was the last July I ever spent in that town. The next year, after graduation, I was on my way. So was Paul. He went to Harvard, of course. He graduated with honors and became a lawyer; he's still allergic to everything. As for my father, well, we patched things up. Hey, we were family -- for better or worse, one for all, and all for one. Karen's son was born that September. I got to say, I think he looks like me; poor kid. Mom? She did well -- business woman, board chairman, grandmother, still cooks the meanest mashed potatoes I know. The Wayner stayed on in furniture. Wood seemed to suit him; in fact, he took over the factory two years later when dad passed away. Winnie left the next summer to study art history in Paris. Still, we never forgot our promise. We wrote to each other once a week for the next eight years. I was there to meet her when she came home; so was my wife and our first son, who was eight months old. Like I said, things never turn out exactly the way you'd planned. Growing up happens in a heartbeat; one day you're in diapers, the next day you're gone. But the memories of childhood stay with you for the long haul. I remember a town like a lot of other towns, a house like a lot of other houses, a yard like a lot of other yards, on a street like a lot of other streets... The kicker is, after all these years, I still look back with Wonder.
Son of Kevin Arnold: Dad? Wanna play catch?
Kevin Arnold - The Narrator: I'll be right there.