I don’t remember the itchiness of the canvas chair or the ants that crawled up my leg. I don’t remember it being too chilly in the shade and too hot in the sun.
What I remember are the blades of grass between my toes. They tickled. I remember the pealing bells of an ice cream cart. I remember peace. He squeezed my hand and pushed the hair from my eyes. He kissed me goodbye before going to buy me a cone.
Did he know then it would be the last cone he’d ever hand me?
I will never know.