The sun was getting lower in the sky, setting up for a beautiful summer sunset. My brothers and I had been called in early from our day of running barefoot in the backyard, playing games long forgotten. Coming in the back door, just off the kitchen, we could smell the popcorn as we bounded up the steps. Dad already had the popcorn in the big paper bag, which meant we were going to the Drive-in. The sides of the paper bag had dark streaks where the butter had seeped through. Mom was pouring ice on top of the drinks in the bottom of the blue and white cooler. The ice making a clinking sound when it hit the cans below.

Dad was on the phone; I could hear him “a large pepperoni and green pepper pizza and a large cheese.” The cheese pizza was for me. I watched him as he stood there finishing the order. His skin had the summer glow from working in the yard and his gold-colored watch was making the light dance on the ceiling and walls as he moved his arm. He was still in his twenties then, slender in his jeans and t-shirt and flat top haircut. I remember him then, just as he always looked in the early photographs. His smile, big with a hint of orneriness and those dimples.

We drove to Sam’s pizza place on Shadeland Avenue, like we did almost every Friday night. There in the picture window of the small white building, was Sam. The five of us sat there in amazement watching Sam toss the pizza dough high in the air and catching it with ease as it whirled around on the way down. Dad worked there with Sam briefly when he was a teenager. We were always eager to hear him tell us about making the pizzas.

After getting the pizzas we arrived at the drive-in and parked our white Pontiac convertible in one of the spots. Tonight, was different. Rarely did we get to play on the swing sets up by the big screen. Dad pushed my littlest brother back and forth with his legs reaching high into the air with each push. I don’t recall the movie we saw but I can still see my dad with his arm around my mom sitting in the front seat. My brothers and I sat on top of the back seat with a clear view of the big screen and the night sky filled with faraway twinkling stars.

There was always a double feature at the drive-in with a break in between movies for a trip to the concession stand or restroom. Even though we were full of pizza and popcorn Dad took us to get ice cream during the break and we returned to the car just in time for the fireworks. The sky was filled with the long swooshes, followed by the deep booms and colorful bursts of light. Reds, greens, blues and purples exploded and filled the sky, reflecting off all of the cars, resulting in lots of oohs and aahs.

I don’t remember anything about the second feature. My brothers and I fell asleep in the backseat. I woke up as we pulled into the driveway but pretended to be asleep. Mom carried my littlest brother into the house and Dad picked up my other brother in his arms. My attempt to be carried in by dad didn’t fool him. He reached out his hand for me to take and said quietly to come on. I slipped my nine-year-old hand into his and walked beside him. Just as I had so many times before and would many times throughout my life.