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I don't remember the sun.

I don't remember the sun or how my sister, Monk, says it warms you up and feels good on your face after dark sunless days in February. Have there ever been sunless days? I can't remember any of them. Do I just not remember or is my sister making up stories like she always does?

I will ask Elizabeth and Alyssa. They will know.

Elizabeth will probably just smile and whisper softly.

Alyssa will laugh loudly and jump around.

They know everything. Secrets and light. Light and secrets. They will know under the shadows of the vining moonflowers that we planted together in May. They will know as we move back and forth on the glider that sits in front of the fence that's protected by the old willow in our backyard.

They will know even though they say that they don't remember the sun either. I think that's just their way of being polite, like mama says people who come over for tea parties in my storybooks are.

Elizabeth and Alyssa will know because they are the best friends a girl who can't remember the sun or ever feel it on her face could have.