Back before fall was here. Summer was. Really. Like sunshine and eighty degrees–once or twice. All that.
But the rains have come.
And they’ve begun to wash away the memory of summer’s sun. As if it never was.
But I remember. Because I need to.
I remember celebrating our anniversary this year. Thirteen years. On the calmest day Tacoma’s waterfront had to give.
Clinging to a paddle board with my toes.
I remember Dash Point Park with cousins.
And how quickly the afternoon snuck away.
Because afternoons do that sometimes. Sneak by. Even when all you want to do is freeze the moment…
And be here. Right now. Forever.
I remember him wanting to carry the backpack. By himself. Every step.
And then doing it.
And her halting to record this moment. Or the moss. Or another tree.
I remember the blueberry farm.
Where empty buckets didn’t dangle useless long.
Not with branches like these…
And where a full bucket brought pride…
And complete delight.
I remember the sunshine.