the sun so bright it leaves no shadows, only stars

i remember the sky.

it was summer, deep summer, and the blue of the sky had that washed out and faded aspect to it that happens when the earth is full of the sun's heat hours after the moon has come out. the grass in the yard had turned to brown weeks before, but the field off to the left still held on to green.

and god, the flowers that were there!

i remember wandering aimlessly between patches, forming a small bouquet as the smell of barbequeing meat drifted across the slight breeze that held no hope of cooling anything down. james drifted in the same field, searching out small trinkets, weird sticks and other random unmentionables.

when it came time for dinner, i found a suitable glass for the table, and plunked my bouquet in it. as james and my father and i made our way through steaks and potatos and salad, a small piece of outside joined in.

it's been one year to the day since my father passed away.

it's strange and hard, memories like this.