The Perfect Getaway

Do you remember the time Mom and Dad told us to get into the car for spontaneous family trip to the mountains? We ate strawberries and blackberries, the sticky juices dribbling off our chins and onto our white shirts. Dad was joking with us again and we squirmed with laughter in the backseat, his laughter contagious. Mom looked like a movie star with her hair whipping in the warm wind. Remember the way they looked at each other and forgot all the long nights filled with yelling and throwing and crying? No? I don’t remember that day either.

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