When Is Summer Months ((better)) File

“Gramps,” Sam said, voice thick. “You asked when is summer months?”

It wasn’t that Leo had forgotten. It was that his grandson, Sam, had asked him the question seven years ago, on the day before he left for deployment. Sam had been six, holding a melted popsicle, staring at the same calendar. when is summer months

Now, the calendar still showed July. Seven years ago’s July. Leo never turned the page after the news came. “Gramps,” Sam said, voice thick

Leo nodded, tears spilling down the furrows of his cheeks. Sam had been six, holding a melted popsicle,

Leo had scooped him up, pointed to June, July, and August—the three fat blocks of red letters. “These three, buddy. Summer lives right here.”

The old, dusty calendar hung on the nail in the shed, its edges curled from humidity and neglect. Every day, Leo would shuffle out here, run a finger over the dates, and ask the same question.

Today, the shed door creaked open. Not Leo. A young man in a crisp uniform, duffel bag over his shoulder, a familiar gap-toothed smile. Sam.