I remember swinging on the swingset with you. You built it out of red wood and planted it next to my first Christmas tree.
I remember a big snowstorm before Rachel was born. We had no power. You built a fire and we heated crab legs over the flames.
I remember going to the pool and you throwing me out of the water. You made me go under the water once so I wouldn’t hear the joke you were telling the neighbor.
I remember your nose dripping ocean water on the counter at Hardee’s. The woman wiped it up like it happened all the time.
I remember you emptying the crab pots at the beach. Was that the first time I knew what death was?
I remember you working for the ferry so I could go to camp. I was so embarrassed that I lied to the other girls. I’m sorry I lied to the other girls.
I remember you picking me up from camp to take me to Mass. I begged you not to but I really loved it because I could be with you and mom.
I remember you buying a Cabbage Patch Kid for Grandpa so he could have a bald baby.