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watermelon seeds

The 4th of July will always be my cousins and I spitting watermelon seeds in my grandmas backyard.

The smells and tastes and sounds of those days resonate inside of me.  There isn't a single year, or specific memory, there are many pieces of memories over many number of years that have created a collective memory so strong, I will carry it with me always.

It is carefully chosen, obnoxiously worn 4th of July outfits.
It is potato salad warmed in the Colorado sun.
It is the warm sun, and cool air conditioning, one after the other, in succession, on repeat.
It is my grandpa manning the grill.
And my uncle bringing the coke.
It is running fast, sweating hard, and cooling off with a twin popsicle on a stick.
It is spitting watermelon seeds off my grandma's patio into the yellowed grass.
It is a washing machine full of ice, filled with canned and bottled drinks.
It is my grandpa getting to the park armed with a lawn chair and a book, hours before anyone else, to reserve our space …

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