The sun warms my skin as dappled light filters through the leaves. My father hoists me high above his head, spinning me around until I’m dizzy with laughter.
My mother, from across the lawn, beams at both of us. In her outstretched hands she holds glasses of lemonade, condensation beading down the sides.
“Take a break for a second,” she says.
My father places me gently on the ground and my mother hands me a glass. We all take a seat in the lawn, my mom on the left, my dad on the right.
The taste of lemon makes me pucker and I squeeze my eyes shut.
Opening my eyes again, their faces are blurry. I try to make them focus and finally my father’s lips are clear. He mouths something inaudible and my forehead wrinkles in confusion.
Trying again he shouts louder.
The warmth of the sun fades away, walls springing up from the ground. The consultation room. A foreign hand placed lightly on my shoulder, leading me one way as my parents are lead in the other.
I look back and note the tear stained cheeks of my mother before she turns out of my life. Emily S. (2018)