I want to always remember

I want to always remember the way it felt when she hiccuped in my belly.
And the way his embrace feels around my waist.
And sunshine. Always the sunshine.


I want to always remember a few multiplication facts
                        because I just never know when I may need to use them.

I want to alway remember the way she kneaded her bread
and how the butter melted perfectly on its crisp, golden surface.
And the way he said, "Our Father…who art in heaven….

I want to always remember that hallowed is His name.

I want to always remember the look on their faces
            when the final out was called, and State Champs became their title.
And the hugs and tears and applause and exhaustion and exhilaration.

I want to always remember the way she calls me Mommy.
And how her pudgy, dimpled hand fits just so in mine.
                 And her smell. Oh, how I want to remember that smell.

I want to always remember the taste of tea brewed in the sun.
And my mom's cinnamon rolls. And chicken salad.
                 And how she prepares them with selfless giving.

I want to always remember that moment she made me an aunt.
And her sister after her.
And their brother.
              And the beauty of the way family keeps on giving.

I want to always remember the day he said, "I like you."
Finally crashing through our silly flirtations into the land of forever.
              And the way he's never stopped humbly loving me.

I want to always remember the imperfect perfection of sisterhood.
And giggles under covers.
And bike rides until dusk, stone cold hands gripping bars in defiance of the setting sun.

I want to always remember reading books with him under the desk.
     And early morning hunting trips, groggy ears taking in his stories.
And rebounding in the broken driveway until suppertime.

I want to always remember community
          and friendships that transcend friendship.
And loving through the hurt; receiving through the not deserving.

I want to always remember what it was like to trust strangers.
And see the good in others.
                 And have boundaries bigger than my own back yard.

I want to always remember how small I am.
And to walk in others shoes, and be like that lawyer in that old, favorite book of mine.

I want to always remember how easy it is to forget
how very good this life is.