I’m sitting on the deck. The last days of winter are here. Spring is slowly coming – the signs are starting to appear: green grass; buds; and clear, warm days. I look at the remains of the past, when Nathan used to play on the jungle gym with his friends. Summer would still be back. On his birthday party, Nathan’s friends, their siblings, and their parents would show up with gifts. I would cook and bake for days: mushroom, black bean, fruit, and barley salads; couscous with veggies, cranberries, and cheese; brownies, and a moist chocolate cake (later, Eric and Nathan would join me in making a chocolate-and-caramel raw cake, chocotorta, as they call it in Argentina). And Eric would grill chicken, sausages, and veggies. He would set a tent in the backyard, and we’d welcome guests with a tablefull of plates, glasses, and food. The kids would play in the yard with the sprinkler going while the adults chatted.
The jungle gym is back, but its wood is worn, and many of the swings are missing. I recall the summer days with yearning; the summers when we celebrated Nathan’s birthdays, before March 23rd, 2018. I recall while the sun shines on the jungle gym.
The jungle gym is back, but its wood is worn, and many of the swings are missing. I recall the summer days with yearning; the summers when we celebrated Nathan’s birthdays, before March 23rd, 2018. I recall while the sun shines on the jungle gym.
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