| I hold my hand up to the sun, looking at the light that slips between the spaces of my fingers. The warmth is ever so familiar, like when I was ten playing with my cousin on the broken up cobblestone floor of the main street in that tiny little town. I wonder what happened to that big white sheepdog? And oh, the way we would get scolded for dragging in the street dust! Our only worries staying out of the heat and the amount of hazelnuts we could eat before we’d get called for dinner. The sun kisses my hair, and I think I see a glimpse of that old white dog. “Yeah” I think. “Life’s finally good again.” Summer |