Happy June 30th

The parking lot full of all the familiar faces, we are early - all the old people driving carts, at the door, waving us in… we are them too the remnant of a relative crowd. My oldest grandson has experienced the marvel of a household of kids and the singularity of just him and his bro. We don’t see the girls as much they’re out of touch… divorce yields fruit, but so does time, and time again pulls and stretches, as if we are pizza dough, puts us through the sheeter, we are floured white as a ghost figure. We wave with our flags, jovial, “Happy June 30th!” as our church celebrates early, not mid-week. Nearly fifteen, my grandson wanders by himself, with his great-aunt, with his brother, with me. Each person has personality- happy, grumpy, doc… I’m happy but what good is that? Comes in handy when friends stop by. My sis came from her business and is doing business on her cell. The eight year old’s stomach hurts, wants to wander with his shoes off, can’t get his sneakers back on, eventually will say he enjoyed it all - the fireworks lit up his eyes into all sorts of sizzles, fizzles, colors and all. And my husband, yes, you guessed is grumpy, and I sigh, satisfaction in the wind yet the importance of patients… patience, dear. He’s out of the sun, in the car, tuning out. I’m the cartoon, tuning into the sun that melts. He’s parked his chair away from the crowd - the rest of us. I grab the chips. As my hand slips into the bag having only touched the first bite, “Can I have the chips…” Delightful family, heat, kids, memories - ah, the warm memories. Love it all, ever after. 7/1/2023