sketchbook stories: robinson's wharf

hearts and thoughts, they fade

Before my father left, we came here for shore dinners: lobsters and clams, corn and coleslaw. Bibs around our necks. Chins greasy with butter. Blueberry pie and vanilla ice cream melting on flimsy paper plates. Before the indoor dining room. Before glassware and linen.

Before I knew fate to be cruel, I picked a lobster from the tank and popped all the lacy seaweed bubbles.

Before summer began and the tourists came, we sat on the splintery wharf, the evening still cool enough for my favorite turtleneck, the one with the little red hearts. Before little red hearts fed egos.

illustration by my mother, Karyl Bannister

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