Grilled whitefish.
Bright strawberries and fresh greens.
Stolen waffle fries with extra dilly tartar sauce.
Children being their very strange selves.
Someone else’s child getting utterly soaked through his clothes picking up rocks in the lake.
Familiar faces back from out of town, and good friends busy serving up delight (and bringing home bacon).
And the long, long wait that I never do, but did tonight, hungry but content at the edge of the harbor as the sky settled slowly into pink.
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