Soft Skin and 70's Pants

It's hard to believe four years have gone by since we lost this lovely lady. For some reason, when I write about her, I'm always drawn to a picture of her around this age. I'm not sure why. I can't possibly actually remember her when I was this young. Maybe it's because when I look in the mirror I see a lot of what she looked like at this age. Or maybe it's because since I don't actually remember the moments from the photos they are less painful to see. Or maybe it's because I was young enough to get to go without pants while my poor sister was subjected to the worst 70's prints known to man. Or maybe it's because in these pictures she's always holding me, which is quite comforting. Even if, as is obvious in this photo, she's holding me back, there's something comforting in remembering that.

For me, one of the hardest things that has happened since she's been gone is to slowly lose memories. One day I realized I didn't remember the sound of her voice. Another day, I forgot how she smelled. I still remember how she felt though, which is maybe why I find comfort in these pictures. She always had a way of being able to hold on to me in a way that didn't smother me, a way of making sure I knew she wouldn't hold on too long or too hard. Maybe all along she was trying to teach me how to let go. Who knows? All I know is, I'm happy to have that memory of how she felt. (She had the softest skin on the planet, in case you were wondering.)

Thanks Mom, for knowing when to hold me back...and when to set me free...(and for not letting me knock over my big sister's blocks because she probably would've pummeled me).