Beauty is a Sense of Freedom
It was a warm, wonderful summer day. We’d all piled into the car, my step-mother, my Dad, my two sisters and myself, and were taking a leisurely drive to the lake. I say leisurely because that’s how I remember it. It could have been hurried and frantic, for all I know. In memory, I savor the warmth of the sun pouring in those fully rolled down windows of the car (no, I have no idea what kind of car; to this day, my relationship to cars is to answer the, “What kind of car do you drive?” question with, “A gold one.”), and the chatter of the family talking about what we’d do once we arrived at the lake. The lake was a frequent destination. Dad likes boating and while our boat was nothing...
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