rainy camp days of letter writing, jacks over slippery baby powder, headphones, and playing sardines: where everyone is "it"
playing monkey-in-the-middle
having a favorite crayon color
when my father made breakfast, eggs, cracking bacon, and carmalized onions
the smell of the newspaper in my parents bathroom
homemade al dente piles of spaghetti, slurping noodles
marionette shows where I’d hold my mother’s hand and look at her after a funny part to see if she was as delighted
brisket sandwiches with ketchup, like my dad ordered
sliding barn doors, baskets of brown eggs, steamed windows, doubled socks, and rolled sweater collars
patches on worn-in jeans
the first page of notes in a new notebook
cookouts where the fathers handled the meat
abominable snowman and Rudolf cartoons
feety pajamas (even though I wore them, I’m sure I always hated them), Saturday morning cartoons
licking wobbly batter off wire beaters
christmas ornaments in their boxes
busy wrapping paper with sleds and candy canes
a bowl of buttery popcorn, a movie on the sofa, in socks with someone I love
apple orchards and cider
peanut butter on apple slices
naptime
story time
the sounds and light beneath an overturned canoe
making my brown sugar icecream over a fresh Georgia peach pie
hotdogs with yellow mustard at a ballgame, where someone buys me a hat
peking duck in warm pancakes with scallion and hoisen sauce
being young enough to have to ask permission (someone being responsible for me)
fishing
winding roads beyond the city
making an apple pie
farm stands with tumbling barrels of fragrant fuzzy peaches
crawling into my parents bed
sleeping on the floor beside my parents bed
needing privacy, being in a house where closing my door gave me privacy, now I always have privacy.  I miss needing it.
lakeside roads, hammocks, and lemonade stands
road trips with mix tapes and maps and local specials
the smell of fireplaces in the cold, remembering santa visiting our home
the pine needle path to the ocean
washing my hair in the rain
mudslides
a new Barbie doll
onion rings
coming home to dinner
hearing someone tell me they miss me already

having a valentine