Summer | We-ll Always Have

“We’ll figure it out,” I said.

I was sitting on the counter, barefoot, a glass of white wine sweating in my hand. “I wasn’t going to.” We-ll Always Have Summer

“I want you to stay for the plums,” he said quietly, “and the slow rot of the dock, and the morning the loons leave. I want you to stay for all the ugly parts no one puts in a postcard.” “We’ll figure it out,” I said

“That’s sad.”

“She said it wasn’t. She said she got seventy summers in her head. She said that was more than most people get of anything.” “We’ll figure it out