Sunburned Memory

“And how long was your father asleep by the pool?” The nurse’s voice bit into my seven year old ears. Of all the images of peeling skin and sun poisoned shoulders that should have burned themselves into my memory, only the school nurse’s question from that hot September day stuck with me twenty years later.

The sun shining through the open car window triggered those words vividly. Lisa sat in the passenger seat with her iPod shooting pop music into her ears. She couldn’t hear the miniature squeals of strain from the sun baking my skin.

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