It is mid-day and despite the suffocating heat, there you are lounging in the chair, your ancient sun hat, shielding the naked scalp concealed beneath, absorbing the lavish sun rays. Do you remember?

A different day. Sitting in the same chair, in the same sweltering heat. There you are, cheering us on,
as we play a game of soccer in the yard, keeping score on an old chalk board. Do you remember?

Rain has claimed the afternoon. But there you are, in the same chair that is now on the covered stoop, your hands swiftly deal the playing cards to beat us at yet another game of poker. Do you remember?

In the midst of a missing sandal situation, there you are, remaining calm and composed, offering your investigative services to successfully locate your great-granddaughter’s shoe. Do you remember?

A breeze is blowing, and there you are, sitting in the same chair, enjoying being pampered as my mom cuts what little amount of hair you have left and as I feed you tomatoes in olive oil. Do you remember?

Same chair. In the middle of the same gravel courtyard. Same sunny days. Same heat. But you are not there. 91 years of life, but I only got the chance to know you for the last 14. Do you remember?

Days continued to come and go, as did the months and years, but summers have never been the same.
Because you were not there. I will always remember.