Wow, I get to pick three? Sammy only got one. 

There’s this one. It’s a fourth of July way back when. Sam was a kid and there was no way Dad was gonna let us do fireworks on our own so I got some. More like.. a freaking crate of ‘em. And Sammy and I nearly set the field on fire lighting them all up while Dad was sleeping back at the crap room we were staying in. It was just… fun. Sam had never gotten to see fireworks like that, and I’d never seen Sam look like he did then. Just… happy, I guess. 

And uh. There was this other one. I wouldn’t mind having a few times if I had the choice. My Mom had been making pie in the kitchen. Think it was for Thanksgiving or some holiday, I don’t remember. It’s all pretty damn fuzzy. You get kicked in the head enough and that’ll happen. But she’d let me help make the crust, and I’d gotten flour pretty much everywhere but the stupid bowl. It was all over me, her, the floor, even Sammy an’ the poor little kid couldn’t even get it off his face. And my Mom was laughing. I was pretty sure she’d be uh… mad, y’know? I remember thinking that. But she was just laughing. And .. I dunno. It’s not a bad thing to be stuck in for a while. 

Outside of that? If I could be stuck in just one? Easy. Sunday morning with Sam. Any Sunday morning. When we don’t have to do jack squat, no work, no house shit. We could lay there all the livelong day without a freaking care in the world. Those’r the uh… the best mornings. Best anything, really.