A glass of pink lemonade on a hot day makes me think I’m seventeen again. Steve and Bobby are outside building a fence in our backyard. Daddy’s at work being an assistant principal because there’s really no such thing as a three-month vacation for educators. Mother and I are making stacks of grilled cheese sandwiches. Baby Josh is sleeping in a room down the hall. After Mother makes the boys come in from the noonday sun and we eat our sandwiches, the iced pink lemonade will be constantly refilled as they, Debby, and I sit at the dining room table and use markers to color posters of flowers–hers–and tropical fish–mine. When Josh wakes up, we’ll take turns holding him and making him laugh.
A glass of pink lemonade on a hot day is a glass of memories.