in our twenties

That night, we opened the bottle of Champagne and listened to our parents talk about adventures they had forgotten, with a smaller car and bigger roads.

We listened to the story behind Maman’s black and white photo on the American coast, and how the wind kept sending the pink scarf holding her hair in the sweetest ponytail on her cheeks, how Papa finally gave her his cap so he wouldn’t go through an entire roll trying to capture her glance lost somewhere on the shore.

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That night, we all were in our twenties, and I saw my parents meet each other again.