It was at my uncle’s holiday party in Connecticut. There was valet parking and passed appetizers on silver trays. A grand piano, children dressed in holiday velvets, with plaids and white tights, woolen dress coats taken from us. Curio cabinets, chesterfields, and credenzas, furniture we didn’t know belonged in a house. My cheek on a bedroom rug at one point. I wish you were there with me in the growing up of it all, in the family drives to the family parties. I wish you were a part of my life for all the small observations, witnessing the balloon slip up the stairwell. My uncle’s wife began to cry. A cousin gave her Yorkie some Helium to see what would happen. What happened is that I’ve remembered an icicle’s worth, a slip of a moment, and even that, I wish was spent with you.