I remember that summer.

The trees still birthing nuts and fruit,

My grandma comfortably sat in chairs older than me,

My papa still alive and well.

Yet a loss already enveloped my body.

My heart drumming,

My eyes mysteriously swell.

I knew not what I was yet to lose,

Or what stories I would tell.

All I knew was that the old chair would be empty one day,

And papa’s home as well.