the way we were
Friday, April 24, 2020
When I was little, we lived in a small but lovely apartment with a concrete backyard that the owner of the two family house graciously let us use whenever we wanted. In the summertime, we would take a long drive to stay at my aunt and uncle's house for the weekend (it was probably only about 45 minutes but my sister and I either both fell asleep or threw up from the motion of the car... sometimes both).
I used to lie in their hammock and look up at their mimosa tree, full of fuchsia blossoms.
I would laugh as my sister would insist on sitting on the back of a sweet-as-sugar German Shepard whose name I can't even remember anymore and put her little baby fingers in the poor dog's ears. My uncle would cook burgers and hotdogs on the grill and we would get in his above ground pool with big floaties on and he would drag us around, laughing, his blue eyes sparkling. We always went to bed earlier than usual, drunk from the pool water and fresh air and the beauty of the suburbs and the joy of simply being alive.
I am having a bad day. That's okay. Life is hard and uncertain and I hurt.
...but oh... to have memories. (GINGER! That was the dog's name!)
...and the promise of making new ones.