Photographic Memory

Cool green grass pokes through white wet toes. My ears feel cold. A plastic circular pool rises out of the grass, and invites me to bask in its tepid waters. The garden hose lies at the bottom, a coiled snake; done injecting its frigid venom, it waits for fresh victims. An hour before, at my house, Mom made hot dogs, ketchup optional, with Mac & Cheese on the side. Crisp apple slices for dessert. Shady back yards are the best, the heat feels less oppressive there, and Popsicles always seem to stick a little less. My yard is full of sun. Libby's isn't. I'm glad we're at her house. Somehow, the puzzle piece jungle gym feels smaller today, but the green side is still my favorite. Spiders construct intricate webs in the corners; snagging flies, and scaring children. Dirt filters into the colored plastic slabs of the jungle gym. Stuck eternally, until someone disassembles the plastic castle .
The only thing better than the wading pool is sliding into it, and Libby has already accomplished that goal. I decide to make my entrance an event, and tip-toe-timidly to the edge of the slide.
"Don't splash me!" I warn.
Libby only responds with a giggle and a smile.
And, in mock indignation, tells me to "Huuurrrry uuupppp"
I begin my descent, and, with arms wide open, childhood greets me in green.