I’m feeling a little nostalgic and lone today. I haven’t given my daughter the Memorial Day she deserves as a child. Maybe next year. But, thanks to her, and the little tinkle of music coming down the street, I got to eat a strawberry shortcake and find some words to write (words that have avoided me all day):
Ice cream tastes better
when it comes off an ice cream truck.
Fried Dough tastes better at a county fair.
Marshmallows taste better after a barbecue.
Ice cold lemonade tastes better after playing in the sun all day.
Everything tastes better in the memories of childhood.