The Good Stuff

Everything I remember about her is good. She is never wrong, never short tempered, always beautiful and wise -like a Disney Princess. But that also means she is not real. She is only what I wish her to be. There are so many things I remember, things I hang onto, because they are all I have to go on.

These things are real:
•Drinking Suisse Mocha and eating cinnamon toast at midnight, snuggled up on the couch.
•Listening to Daddy on the car radio, and waiting for him to dedicate Benny and the Jets to us, then singing our crazy heads off.
•Watching Donny and Marie, wishing there was ice to skate on in California, and asking for purple socks like Donny.
•Listening to her sewing machine zipping my dance costume together.
•Getting my hair fixed in the bathroom, and being really proud when she said I had a tough head.
•Her dark blue robe with the flowers.
•The way she laughed when we went to Grandma's house.
•How mortified she looked when dad suggested I just skip the first day of kindergarten so we could go for a balloon ride.
•The strawberry curtains she made for my room.
•When she said, "What makes you think I'm going to heaven first?"
•The car accident when we spilled our M&M's
•Her blue ring with the star inside.
•That cross in the window.