Currency of a Promise “It’s going to be okay...” The summer I taught you to ride a bike, the sun was our best friend, and popsicles were the currency of a promise. When you fell, you clung to my neck all the way home, and refused to try again until we locked pinkies stained cherry red, and I promised not to let go. Now the world is blanketed in numbing rain, and we are alone again, as we so often are. And I am left to wonder at the years that carved the sharp lines of your face, that quietly gave you strength, if you still trust popsicles and me, “...I promise.” and how you speak with such confidence, that I almost believe you. Callie Fedd Class of 2022
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