Watermelon Popsicles

Fourth of July week. Nashville does the Fourth like it's a personal challenge — fireworks at Riverfront Park, the Nashville Symphony playing, half a million people downtown sweating and waving flags and eating things on sticks. We didn't go downtown. We went to Mama's. Because Lorraine Mitchell's Fourth of July is better than any city-sponsored event and I will die on this hill.

Mama's Fourth: hot dogs on a charcoal grill she's had since before I was born. Hamburgers with American cheese (no fancy cheese — this is AMERICA). Baked beans from a can that Lorraine doctors with brown sugar, mustard, and bacon until they transcend their canned origins and become something sacred. Watermelon. Corn on the cob. Deviled eggs (always). And the potato salad. ALWAYS the potato salad. The potato salad is the load-bearing wall of every Mitchell gathering. Remove the potato salad and the whole structure collapses.

Terrence came. He brought sparklers for the kids and a six-pack for Kevin, who drove down from Clarksville with Crystal. Crystal and I had our first real conversation — she's a pharmacy tech at the PX, she's from Ohio originally, she misses her family, Army life is hard. I liked her more in person than I did at the wedding. At the wedding she was "Kevin's bride." At the Fourth of July she was Crystal — a woman trying to make a life in a place she didn't choose, married to a man whose job decides where they live. I know something about building a life in places you didn't choose. We have that in common.

Jayden lit a sparkler and immediately tried to use it as a lightsaber against an invisible opponent. I confiscated it after he nearly set Mama's azalea on fire. He was furious. He was also correct — sparklers ARE lightsabers, and the invisible opponent was definitely there, and the azalea was being dramatic. But fire safety trumps imagination when you're four and the azalea is sixty years old. The azalea has seniority.

After the kids went to sleep at Mama's (we stayed the night — all of us, crammed into Mama's apartment like a happy, sweaty puzzle), Terrence and I sat on the front steps and watched distant fireworks over the Nashville skyline. He put his arm around me. I leaned into him. Neither of us mentioned Atlanta. The Atlanta emails are still happening — he told me Tuesday that they want to schedule a phone call — but tonight was not about Atlanta. Tonight was about two people on concrete steps watching the sky explode and being here. Just here. Just this.

The watermelon that day sat on Mama’s counter like a centerpiece — cold from the fridge, cut into wedges, disappearing fast between sticky little hands and adults who know better than to pretend they’re too grown for watermelon at a cookout. Watching Jayden chase sparklers and Crystal laugh for the first time all afternoon, I kept thinking: next year, I’m freezing it. These watermelon popsicles have become my contribution to Mama’s spread — something cold and simple and purely summer, exactly the kind of thing that doesn’t need to be complicated to be exactly right.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 4 hours 10 minutes (includes freezing) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

6 cups seedless watermelon, cubed (about 1/2 a small watermelon)
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice (about 1 lime)
1 tablespoon honey or agave syrup (optional, to taste)
Pinch of salt

Instructions

Blend the watermelon. Add the cubed watermelon to a blender. Blend on high until completely smooth, about 30 seconds. You should have roughly 4 cups of juice.
Season. Add the lime juice, honey (if using), and pinch of salt. Blend for another 10 seconds to combine. Taste and adjust sweetness as needed — ripe watermelon may need no sweetener at all.
Fill the molds. Pour the blended mixture into popsicle molds, leaving about 1/4 inch of space at the top to allow for expansion. Insert popsicle sticks.
Freeze. Place the molds in the freezer and freeze until completely solid, at least 4 hours or overnight.
Unmold. To release, run warm water over the outside of the molds for 10–15 seconds, then gently pull the popsicles free. Serve immediately.

Nutrition (per serving)

Watermelon Popsicles — The Sweetest Part of Mama’s Fourth