mellifluous

lemonade

dear caroline,

i heard what the doctors said and i really think it's quite awful, for you, i mean. not being able to remember everything about a life you've lived.

but you know what is also awful?

spilling an entire bottle of lemonade on your brand new dress. which you did, and i can remember it as clearly as if it happened just yesterday.

we were sitting at that little picnic table in the backyard of my uncle's house and you bent down to get something that had fallen off the table, and somehow in the process of doing so, you knocked your lemonade off the table and into your lap.

i can remember the way you shrieked and jumped away from the table as if the lemonade had burned you, when really, it had just ruined a dress you'd bought the day before.

i remember the way you scowled down at the bottle as if demanding that it apologize, before you sighed in resignation and sat back down in the table to resume whatever you and i had been talking about.

i also remember fighting my hardest to keep a straight face because i knew you'd become even more unhappy if i began laughing at you.

these are little, unimportant things that i remember about my life and time spent with people. these are things that you should be able to remember, but you cannot.

and that's not exactly fair.

signed,

cooper