The Best Fruit

I remember

The smell of petrichor

Earthy, rotten, moist

The smell of fruit

Overripened, sickening, undesirable 

I remember

Shafts of light filtering through the leaves

Scattering light, making the shadows dance

Sweat beaded and broke 

I remember

The cider

Tart, spiced, thick, refreshing

My mother’s voice

Exasperated, withholding

My brother

Uncomfortable, squirming

Our time

Slipping, wasting, waning

And I also remember

Their presence

Gone, voided, absent