“Let’s see what you’ve got to wear,” she said, pulling open a drawer and rifling through the contents. “Aha!” With a triumphant smile, she pulled out a long-sleeved shirt and slipped it over my head. I fumbled to get my arms through the sleeves, my mind puzzled over why we were dressing like this in the middle of summer.

“Socks,” she declared, shoving a folded pair into my hands. I wrinkled my nose in protest. She paused, reading my expression. “Not those then. Comfortable socks today.” She grabbed another pair, and I breathed a sigh of relief—no uncomfortable seams at the tops of my toes today.

“Come on!” she urged, standing up with a grin that was impossible to resist. Whatever adventure she had in mind, it was making her so happy that I couldn’t help but catch her excitement. She gave me a quick once-over—long-sleeved shirt, comfortable jeans, socks, and shoes—before her eyes lit up again.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, diving back into the dresser. This time, she pulled out a pair of winter gloves. “You’re going to need these too, sweetie.”

With the gloves in hand, she scooped up the empty milk jugs, and we rushed out the door into the warm embrace of the summer air. The sun was high in the sky, casting a golden glow over everything as birds sang from the trees above.

As we walked, she chatted with me, pointing out interesting plants and trying to guess which bird belonged to each song we heard. We marched along the hot, dusty path, tall grasses brushing against my waist.

“Oooh, here’s one!” she said, pulling me along by the hand. We stopped in front of a scraggly bush bristling with thorns. With careful fingers, she reached in and plucked a berry, its surface bubbled and as black as night. She smiled down at me, her eyes twinkling, and popped the berry into her mouth.

“Put those gloves on,” she instructed, and I hurried to comply. She watched as I gingerly searched the bush, my gloved hands pushing aside the thorns until I found a berry of my own. I hesitated, then popped it into my mouth, feeling its bitter-sweetness spread across my tongue. The seeds were big and the texture strange, so I spit it out. She laughed, a sound as warm as the summer sun.

“We’ll take these back and make some jelly,” she said, still chuckling. “You’ll love it then, with peanut butter sandwiches.”

With my arms protected from most of the scratches, we spent the afternoon gathering berries under the hot sun. She sang to me, talked to me, filling the day with stories and songs, her voice a constant companion.

There were so many days like this, spent with her. The memories blur together, a tapestry of sunlight, laughter, and learning. One thing is for certain: we explored, we danced, we sang. We gathered, we made, we ate, and we tried new things. And at the very heart of it all, there was always her—guiding, teaching, and loving.