She gave me a thumbs-up that nearly toppled her, and I laughed. An honest belly laugh. It was such a small thing, this photo, this moment, and warm settled in my chest, refusing to budge.
The sky stretched wide and gold as we left the arena. It was the kind of afternoon I hadn’t noticed in too long—soft, open, and unhurried. Time with Cassy was rare, and my headspace, tangled with thoughts of Mel, needed a detour.
Across the highway was the park Mel had mentioned in Alberta, a place she used to visit and wanted to again. Maybe today would be the day.
We dropped the skates in my car, and I walked with Cassy toward the path beneath the highway.
“Uncle Sean, where are we going?” she asked, skipping to keep up.
“It’s a surprise, Sweet.”
The tunnel was bustling with humanity—strollers, bikes, rollerblades zipping by in both directions. Then we came out.
“It’s a park!” Cassy shouted, dropping her backpack and sprinting toward the swings with her penguin clutched to her chest.
The place was wide and sun-drenched in the late-afternoon, typical Sacramento in late May—green lawns starting to crisp at the edges, sycamores casting long shadows, and scented honeysuckle drifting from a nearby fence with the breeze.
Cassy perched on a swing, carefully balancing Pitou beside her. When he toppled over a third time, she jumped off and brought him to me with a dramatic sigh.
I watched her make friends in the blink of an eye, a true social butterfly. Meanwhile, her uncle was stuck figuring out how to chat up the hockey assistant with the world’s most intimidating cheekbones.
Cassy and her new friends played games as I watched on. Kids, a welcome change from my usual exclusive adult interactions. I texted Abby to say we’d eat out. We weren’t making it home before dinner with this level of childish enthusiasm.
“Uncle Sean, I saw Pitou in my dream,” Cassy said, panting slightly after a particularly vigorous game of tag. “He was flying.”
I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep a straight face. “Yeah?”
“In the sky, like an airplane.”
“That must’ve been one wild dream.” I chuckled. My ever-growing responsibility just grew wings.
“Can you throw him really high, P-L-E-A-S-E?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
Really. I scanned the park—wood chips, scattered kids, and grass beyond the play area. I was out of my league, but if I was going to wing this day, I might as well learn to roll with the flying penguin.
I grabbed her backpack. “Alright, kiddo. Let’s try it over there.”
She grabbed Pitou and followed me to the edge of the grass. I tossed Pitou into the air and caught him. Cassy clapped, jumping with delight.
“Higher, Uncle Sean! Higher!”
I tossed it again and again, then nothing landed in my hand. The penguin got stuck in a tree branch. Cassy went quiet, her face crumpling into the pre-cry expression. My stomach dropped.
“Damn it,” I muttered under my breath. What was the recovery protocol for penguin-related tree emergencies?
I shook the branches I could reach, a mad man behind the playground, until the toy dropped, thankfully before any tears spilled. Crisis averted.
The moment was saved by the tinkling song of the ice cream truck.
“Can I get ice cream, Uncle Sean?” Cassy tugged my hand, Pitou clutched to her chest. Her eyes were fixed on the truck parked on the other side of the park, away from the playground.
This might be the same truck Mel had mentioned.
“Let’s take a look,” I said, ushering Cassy forward.
We crossed the park and stood in line, scanning the menu board.
I chuckled. “Is this one of those ‘don’t tell Mom’ things—”
