• Jessica Lee McMillan

Lemonade Day

Image by Cynthia Starns on Pixabay

When I passed the lemonade stand, I passed my childhood, late August on the sidewalk, next to the church with humble interior walls, bright with musty lead paint,

sunned in the afternoon smelling of comfort in bitter coffee grains,

its kitchen is full of generic goods: no-name freezies of unreal colour and simple sugars for preschool ambition of lemonade fundraisers.

I’m sampling the batch now and my fingers sugar-mealy again with dirt and zest and metal residues from coins collected under the blue sky and the impossibly jubilant lemonade sign.

That’s the kind of summer day it was.


Jessica Lee McMillan © 2021

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