I Remember

I remember summer mornings, being dropped off so early the day was still wrapped in shiny, yellow packaging.

I remember crawling into bed between you & Pops to sleep off the rest of the earlyness.

I remember cream of wheat with butter and sugar and lumps.

I remember beef stroganoff and fat slices of beefsteak tomatoes sprinkled with salt.

I remember going to Nan's house so "the boys" could turn the soil in her garden.

I remember standing at the kitchen sink, using the dark green Palmolive to wash the dishes, staring out the kitchen window into the dark world beyond the porch.

I remember the way your hands were always so soft.

I remember the linen closet had a door in the hallway and a door in the bathroom. You can reach in one and push the other open. Hours of fun for two cousins intent on teasing each other.

I remember the way the air felt on summer evenings, heavy with wisteria, light with crisp air, awash in blue moonlight and filled with the sound of crickets.

I remember the music always on.

I remember bedtime's at ten.

I remember planting marigolds.

I remember how you never drove until Pops passed, and then it was rare and white knuckled.

I remember the time the girl on the bike rode into your car while you were driving.

I remember paperback books by the sackful.

I remember craft fairs.

I remember the way your dolls were so much better than those Cabbage Patch dolls (oh, how I wished for an elf!).

I remember always feeling safe with you, in your world, in that house.

There's so much I remember.

And so much I forget.

I am so afraid of the legacy Alzheimer's has left on our family.

I am terrified of the day that it's me.

I know there are so many ways people in my family have passed. Most commonly cancer. Mostly cancer.

Is it weird that I'm not afraid of the cancer?

I am terrified of Alzheimer's.

Is it too late?

Am I already cursed?

Can I outrun Alzheimer's?

Can I outrun the cancer?

How long do I have before my life goes dark?

How much will I forget before I'm done?