A Special Picnic

Flash Fiction by Lisa Holcomb

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We do it every year, Jamie and I.  We spend the morning gathering up all of your favorites: pineapples, hedgehogs, Wuthering Heights, your yellow blankie from when you were four.  We pack pictures you’d recognize and new ones you haven’t seen yet.  Everything is perfect for your special day.

We meet you in a quiet grassy spot overlooking the lake we swam in every summer when we were little.  The waves bob gently against the dock where you used to run straight from the car in all your clothes still on to be the first to jump off. Jamie spreads a blanket, and we put everything on it:  jams and chocolates, slinkies and tops, Dickens and Austen.  The blanket is nearly full without us even on it.