By Kara Killinger
When Pop takes you and Kenneth to roam the thin strip of sand between the grass and the lake, you will find treasures including a red and white bobber, broken sunglasses, and a fishing lure shaped like a strange worm. You will put the treasures in a bucket to show Momma and Daddy and Grandma Brooks. On the cottage deck, leaning forward in their folding chairs, they will be so proud of you.
You don’t have to remember it won’t always be summer 2006. You don’t have to think about what will happen to the playset when you outgrow it, or who will drag the pontoon boat to the dock when Pop no longer can.
You don’t even need a sense that the moment must be cherished. That focus, that desire to see it again at night when you close your eyes, would only distract you.
In the thin Michigan sunlight, as the sky glows orange, and the lake glows orange, and your face, though you can’t see it, glows orange, you will ask Grandma Brooks, “Can we go to Tastee Freeze?”
She will say yes.
Your family will pile into the Toyota. After considering all the flavors, you will order chocolate chip cookie dough like always. And it will taste so normal, which is to say, so good.
Kara Killinger is a senior at Trinity University. She writes feature articles for Trinity’s student newspaper, the Trinitonian, and hosts The Telescope, a podcast highlighting young writers and their work.