Primanostogust

It was still there. Sandy’s Ice Cream Shack, boasting its eight flavors, stood to the right of the five waterslides that cascaded down to kidney-shaped pools below. The water slide park and Sandy’s had opened in the early nineties and still appeared to be going strong. How a water slide park thrived when the entire Atlantic Ocean thrashed and waved behind it was a mystery.

A mystery that Lola was happy to not spend much time contemplating. Abuelito’s funeral was over and her flight back to San Francisco was early next morning. Lola and her siblings had spent idyllic childhood summers staying at their grandparents’ house at the beach.

It had been years since she had visited. The guilt gnawed. She had made sacrifices, working at Google and climbing the ranks, far away from her family.

Finally making it to the front of the line, she was relieved to find that they still had it: blue bubblegum ice cream. She ordered one from the pimple-faced teenager and plopped down on one of the hot plastic chairs. Her first bite flooded her eyes with tears—Abuelito had bought her her first cone (of the new bubblegum flavor!) after she had finally gotten the courage to go down the biggest slide. With the icy sweet taste came the sound of 90s slap bracelets, the chlorinated burn of her eyes, the twinkle of Abuelito’s laugh as he beheld her wide eyes experiencing the second “first milestone” of the day.