Roasted Peanuts

I remember being lifted unto my grandfather's shoulders. In the night sky, green and white fireworks bloomed and made percussive noises startling and delighting me.

Tatone smiled broadly as he handed me a paper bag filled with warm roasted peanuts.

I plucked one out. The shell partially cracked, I split it open and put the kernels into my mouth. The rich, creamy, unexpected taste made me so unbearably happy I almost cried.

My mother, watching, smiled even as she scolded her father for spoiling me. But I could tell that, at least in this one moment, she was happy too.