Outside in the porch swing with my first cup of tea. The morning is cool, as it should be in the month of June, and the swing rocks slowly. It seems a day of infinite possibilities—a day when a boy on a motorcycle might kiss a girl on a horse. A long, glorious summer day that will give way to a short summer night, a night of stars and kisses, whispered promises and scraps of poems.
For me, this is a month loaded with events and memories. Events that, even as they are celebrated, are missing some of their zest. My birthday, the first of our sons to graduate college. Father’s Day, a bittersweet day--three beautiful young men a testament to our love’s immortality. Shane’s birthday at the end of this month, a day that has been traditionally celebrated with a huge German chocolate cake—his favorite.
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| Summer 1978 |
Memories are, in turn, both blessing and curse. I remember everything. The anniversary of the first time Shane kissed me--so many years ago I hesitate to number them. I remember a starry summer sky framed by towering fir, looking like a tie-dyed t-shirt, he claims and makes me laugh. The smell of forest duff, of tangy pitch, of sun-warmed skin.
I remember the day we moved into the new home we had built only to find out the very next day at the obstetrician appointment that we were expecting twins and our spacious new abode was now a bedroom short.
June is a month overflowing with memories, a month stuffed with events that Shane will not be here to share. Somehow it will be my job to go forward into all the possibilities of the future while my heart seems to have taken up residence in the past.
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