A trip to a water park that has become a day-long series of traditions.
Starts with a long drive, radio barely on, talking about everything and nothing.
1/
Then, the water park hitting every slide in the place until our legs ache and feet hurt...
...and then we do one more ride anyway. It’s always on a double-tube.
We always do the last one together.
2/
But one of us will suggest maybe stopping by the lake on the way home for ice cream.
3/
4/
He asked for peach the next year and that’s we’ve gotten every time since.
5/
We drive it with the windows down as the day turns to sunset and just drink in how every living thing smells like August and everything after.
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And then we cross a rickety bridge and get to the ice cream place and eat some before getting back in the car.
7/
I reach for the radio dial as he rolls his eyes in fake annoyance knowing what’s coming.
8/
He pretends to hate each and every one over the last bites of his ice cream... but out of the corner my eye, I’ll catch him singing along.
9/
And then, just like every year, I pull into the driveway and turn off the engine and let the song play out while he sleeps.
10/
The perfect closing lines for this year’s installment of a day I just treasure.
I drink in every single thing about our little traditions.
They’re life to me. They’re just everything.
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