I walk down the main street with my hand in Papa Bear’s fingers. I smile when I see my favorite ice cream place and the little bell twinkles as we enter the parlor. The traditional red and white diner aesthetic makes me smile. The white hat wearing employees smile as we take a seat by the window and I look at the menu.
“What would my little bear like?” Papa Bear smiles at me when we sit. “Papa Bear feels like a burger and fries. Maybe a milkshake.”
“Can I have a milkshake?”
“Of course,” Papa Bear strokes my hair and cheek.
A bright and smiley waiter comes over with a pad and a pen. “What can I get ya?”
Papa Bear orders his food and I wait for him to order mine to, but he doesn’t.
“What about you little bear? Go ahead.” His smile is bright and open.
“Umm…” I look at the menu, “Can I have…” I feel the butterfly flutter and I stop. I look over at Papa Bear as he looks at the back of the menu.
“I…” the butterfly stops. “Can I have a chicken salad and a strawberry milkshake?”