I remember a day.

My father telling me I was old enough
to go fishing with him and grandpa.

I was proud and excited.

The morning he woke me up with caresses on my cheek.
His whispering lightened me up like a firework I stood up.

Outside, it was still dark, and cold, despite summer was already here.
The white noise of crickets wiping out anything else.

I wore a jumper, and walked with him to the shore where a small plastic boat, red and white, was waiting.
He and...