The smell of the grill and fresh cut grass feel like summer to me.
I used to have BBQs with my family this time of year.
Now I don’t eat meat.
And I no longer have a family.
He always did the cooking. On the grill, that is.
Maybe he still does. Cook meat on Sundays. Now there’s just one less plate at the table.
I really don’t know what they do on the weekends.
All I know, is that I’m not there.
And he’s not here.
And it’s better that way.
Copyright Suzanne Norton 2015