Home » Poetry » The Third Week of July

The Third Week of July

My family and I
have a house
up here at
Lake George.

We just came back from
tubing and my arms feel like
jello.

Embraced by terry cloth,
I climb into a wooden beach chair
at the edge of the water,
as my older brother sits at the
picnic table
next to me.

My dad comes from the house
with orange creamsicles.
My mom puts my favorite Bowie tape into
our boom box.
-The same tape that was her favorite
when she was
young-
My parents scoot close to one another
a few feet away from
me on the lawn,
looking out at the
lake.
He reaches for her
hand
and she grasps it back
as I have always seen.

The water is calm.
Perfect for waterskiing.
The mountains stand tall,
guiding the sunset.
A light breeze tickles
my cheek
and
I notice the little hairs
around my forehead
drying.

My parents have begun
speaking
but it remains
quiet.

No whispering of secrets
between them
but
genuine conversation
meant to stay soft
as to not interrupt
the moment
we have found ourselves in.

The sun rests on my
face
for a moment
and I close my eyes
to enjoy
what I have been given.

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