Sunday, February 25, 2018

The Little Girl Next Door

At fourteen I babysat the baby girl next door. I adored her. She was a sparkplug – always smiling, always dragging sunshine through every room behind her. She couldn’t say my name, so I became Meenie. When she was three, her family moved away. I saw her again when she was five, and then last year I read her obituary. Breast cancer.
-

1 comment:

  1. Indigo BuntingMarch 2, 2018 at 7:41 AM

    My second Wow on your blog today. That's rough. Life is shocking and hard.

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)

Catching up day 3

May 21, 2018 My grandparents were the first people I knew to own a microwave oven. Theirs was brown*, had a tiny wind...

  • Hail Caesar
    Clamato juice. That’s right – clam and tomato juice. Two flavours that belong together. Y’all Americans like to say you’re the...
  • Hyrule isn't going to save itself
    I feel guilt about staying home and no longer having much of an income, so I make a list every morning of things I need to do in order to fe...
  • Rush
    I’ve never listened to him, other than snippets that appear in podcasts. Sometimes I see him quoted as a source on Twitter. How does one mak...