Remember the way of the moon and how the seasons changed. The sun kissed the August season as the lakes warmed and the sunflowers bloomed. Or remember when the sun fell early but softly on the winter lakes. Frozen and fields white with snow. The changing seasons of May were what I’d remember most from my childhood. It would be summer and the joyous giggles of children galloping through fields would fill the air like a rain storm in April. Along the lakes we’d row to the ghost island, bones piling up in numbers unimaginable but, it was an adventure. A memory. The sunscreen burning through our cheeks we’d lie among grasses and wet rivers, longing for summer to stay forever. The winter months were soon but the blossoming flowers and handmade ice cream made us think that wasn’t so.