A long time from now, I hope we remember the park the way it was this weekend, with shoes side by side and kites tadpoling over our heads. We’ll laugh at how the cherries coated your chin — summer’s blood. We’ll remember how you nibbled carefully around the pit and how you drew the line so confidently. We’ll remember the three of us walking through the weekend — alone together, selecting our moments, doing what we pleased.
Let’s remember the time the golden hour stretched out for days and hope that, one day, you too will be talking now of summer evenings.