I remember iced tea. Iced tea on a morning in the swelter of summer, a morning like the breath of the satan side of God had torched the day with his yawn. I was so thirsty I remember being so thirsty and my mom giving me... I remember she was there with her friend and she was laughing at me as if she was somehow more clever than me, knew more about my being thirsty than I did and that she remembered to quench her thirst before she left, everyone did and it was only me who was thirsty that day and I was so small that I couldn’t possibly be as thirsty as I said I was, but I was. I remember I was so parched I felt I might not be able to stand up much longer and I remember that if I didn’t get something to drink soon that I might die. So she said to me that all there was all she had was iced tea and it wasn’t sweet and if I was that thirsty that I would have to drink it. I remember putting the container, whatever it was in, maybe a glass or a thermos, but I put it to my mouth and gulped the pungent liquid I remember I drank it down and I never realized how good cold and wet could feel inside of me. I didn't care about the taste or that there might be none left all I could do is drink and drink until it ran over the sides of my mouth and trickled down toward my ears. I remember that I learned to like the taste of bitter tea and that I craved it often when I was thirsty after that because I felt like it saved me from the heat of the red sun