They are the only things standing in the yard. I am the only one who sees them. Twelve pink flamingos with long, plastic legs and stakes dug into the ground. Twelve that mysteriously appeared this morning. Twelve lies and giggles from them. From mom’s room we look, we can see them, Dana laughs hysterically thinking of when they did it.
  When they came was a secret. They stand sturdy, watching us. They stand and stand all different sizes representing a sense of closeness, like a family who is not actually related but still loves each other, just as we did. This is why they stand.
  We will never forget what we are, they create a tradition, without them summer would not be the same. Family, family, family they whisper as we wonder. They protect.
  When they have been up in the grass too long, when people drive by and wonder, I take each one out. There is no more pink to stand out in the front yard. Twelve who will always come back home. Twelve who know that they will never ever be alone. Twelve who we will see again next summer.