Panels  − July, 1997

We sit close in a way that only children can, in the grass behind the swings. A comic is spread open on our combined lap. I excitedly read to her what's on the page, breathing in each character and breathing out their words. The sun is bright and hot, but the air is cool. I can smell the lake this morning, cold and shimmering. I am happy to be here with her, sharing this with her.

I catch her looking at me. I laugh and tell her to pay attention. She smiles and obliges, but from time to time I can feel her eyes as I read. Sometimes, I can feel them now, when I walk barefoot through the grass, or when the sun shines bright and hot in a sky far, far away.