I have a memory…
A memory of green.
I am walking across green with a woman, her filmy blue skirt rippling in the breeze. She is laughing. Now and then she stoops to toss a ball to a small yellow dog, its fur almost the same color as the woman’s hair. We are in a pasture. There are cows in the distance, some horses. Framing them, tall glossy-leafed trees with big white blossoms.
A male voice calls. “Helen! It’s time!”
My mother turns, calls back something I don’t understand. Then she calls to the dog, picks me up, and we all return the way we came, the grass still bent under our footsteps.
The dog barks, begs her to throw the ball again.
My father waits for us, smiling, his eyes almost the same color as the grass.