I wiped off the top of the wooden picnic bench with the palm of my glove before Emma sat down.

I took two paper cups out of my coat pockets and handed her a plastic spoon.

“Eleanor said we were crazy to eat ice cream in December,” I said, sitting down on the bench beside her.

Emma scraped her plastic spoon along the frozen edge of the paper cup.

“Two scoops of strawberry swirl, Grandpa, just like we used to,” she said.

“We don’t have to look at the clock today,” I said.