I remember you.You’re foggy but I do. I remember you being bossyand I remember loving it, needing it,Guiding me barefootthrough our woods, always so mossy.  I remember stealing Kool-Aid in dry measuring cups-mine a quarter, yours a half and hiding them in the excavator tirethat was our sand box. I remember thinking that was perfectly out of vieweven though our fingers, lips, tongues and placky baby teeth were blue. I remember how you could protect me from the spiders underneath the rimjust by being, and being there with me.  I remember that you were, undoubtedly, my best friend.I remember that I, technically, was your aunt. But you would never call me thatuntil I was older than you.  I remember lying in front of your carso you couldn’t leave meand you zipping me into your suitcase.I remember these two best because they almost worked. I remember all that I did to not let you go awayjust for a few months, never worked.I remember not eve getting a chance to try when you were taken from me forever. Forever.  Forever titled an auntbecause I’m older than you ever even got the chance to be. I remember you.