We ate pumpkin pie ice cream in the spring. It felt like fall. Other couples at the parlor had rocky road, pistachio, moose tracks, blueberry cheesecake.

We wanted chilled winds to blow through our town one more time. Leaves to rake. Ripples in the river. Sweaters worn.

She said, I’m not ready for summer. The heat. The violence, I nodded yes. Every summer there’s always a tragedy. Someone is killed for a stupid mistake, tornadoes rip apart towns, the war marches on, she told me. What will this season bring this year? she asked. I shrugged my shoulders.

I got a blanket from the car. We sat on a park bench, looking at cherry blossoms on trees. She placed her head on my shoulder. Let’s enjoy it while we still can, I said to her. This weather. This life. Take it in one more time, we sipped on pumpkin flavored coffee. The wind felt good.

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