I remember at one

warmth and compassion

as my aunt cradled

my tiny, delicate body.

 

I remember at five

kid's faces filled with

vibrant face paint,

silly clowns forming

balloon animals, and

my aunt’s blissful laughter.

 

I remember at eleven

my cousins running

to the swing set,

playing hide-n-seek,

fighting over hidden

easter eggs in the yard, and

my aunt's contagious

smile behind the camera.

 

I remember at twelve

tents, gooey s’mores,

mosquito bites,

awkward, lingering

silence, sad faces, and

my aunt’s aches and pains.

 

I remember at fifteen

the lake house, tubing,

fishing off the dock,

hope and courage in

my aunt’s sunken eyes, and

the last summer.

 

I remember at sixteen

visiting rooms, kind nurses, and

fear in my aunt’s soft voice,

passion in my her touch, and

love in her last breath.