She finds her bathing suit in a pile of suits on the farm front porch, and brings it to me.
She points to herself.
In her tiny voice, she whispers it kind of unclear, but I'm beginning to understand, "On. On."
I help her put it on and lather her tender white skin in sunscreen__ and then I watch.
I watch her run her pudgy little fingers across the ruffle of her suit.
She's still in that toddling phase__ the one where she's still trying to tame those little legs of hers.
And every once in awhile, she takes a break and finds herself a snack.
Her see-through white whisps
and sun-kissed cheeks
and love for her own bathing suit__
They're tiny pieces of summer that I want to remember for always.