I've been thinking. The truth is I can’t remember her that much anymore. Those summer days at my house, when it was such a treat to have them over here from California. I can even remember the time when we visited them on our welcome back visit once they came back from Japan. The loud noises of a naval port still ring in my ears which my Uncle worked at. The bustling environment never distracting from the fun I was having with my rarely-seen cousins.

Everything I can remember about her seems like foggy movie I can only partially visualize. I can see us lying on the floor, laughing for at least ten minutes straight. We sure did have fun that day. I remember taking turns jumping off her bunk bed, giggling at the grumpy neighbor downstairs yelling at us to be quiet. She was like a silent giant. She wasn’t an adult, and she wasn’t a kid, but she sure was someone to look up to. I remember a day when I could see this teenager clearly. I could remember all the time I spent with her. I remember the day that both my parents came to pick me up from school. That day my parents took me and my sister into the living room after school to talk with us. That day, I learned from my teary-eyed parents that I will have to hold onto those memories tightly. That day, I learned that the fragile life of my beloved cousin had been cut short by a thick tree next to a windy road.
Even the memories that I find most important have slipped away over time.

~Mike