Dad and I are in the old ford pick up. It's loud. It's green. It's got a long stick shift reaching up from the floor. Dad's driving. I'm about 14. We are smiling and talking and suddenly we begin singing "You are my Sunshine". I sing the melody. He sings the harmony. Our voices blend and I wonder for a second if I am singing harmony and he's singing melody. Afterward we laugh from the fun of it.
Dad shifts down into 3rd as we come to the 25 mile an hour section. We pass the baseball field on the right. The chain link fence raises high around the home plate. The empty bleachers. The sun. The grass. The doug firs standing guard at a respectful distance.
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Sarah Pemberton leads writer's workshops and summer camps that connect people through story.