A brand new box of crayons.

Putting on my choir robe and walking into mass, holding my music folder very carefully, straining to see which pew my dad was sitting in.

Staying home from school even though I was sick and even though I loved school. I never knew the afternoon could be so quiet, laying on my couch when all the other children were in the classroom. My mom’s hand was always so cool when she pressed it to my forehead to check for a fever. Then she would ask if I wanted a piece of buttered cinnamon-sugar toast. And I would say yes.

My California Raisins lunch box.

Roller skating in my neighbor Samantha’s unfinished basement. It was musty and dimly lit and we’d skate around and around being careful not to slam into the metal poles holding the house up. Her older sister had a mixtape that we listened to while we skated. It played “Mony Mony’, ‘Achey-Breaky Heart’ and ‘Kokomo’ on a loop. There must have been other songs but I can’t remember them.

Sitting in the backseat of my Uncle Vinnie’s 15 passenger van driving somewhere for summer vacation. I would cuddle up to my Pillow Person and play my Gameboy. Usually, Tom and I would make up songs and stories. Our favorite being one about our cousin Michael who worked at the Sunoco gas station. I’m sure we were delightful to have in the backseat for seven hours.

When we had spaghetti for dinner with a salad on the side on which I would dump half a bottle of Kraft Zesty Italian dressing.

When the weather turned cold in the fall and my mother would strip our beds and make them up again with flannel sheets. Mine were pink with characters from Beauty & the Beast. I remember falling asleep on those snowy nights all tucked in next to Belle.

The next morning when my dad would peek his head in and say ‘No school, snow day, go back to sleep’ and he would shovel the driveway and head to work because the school he taught at was always open.

Drawing houses made of chalk in the street in front of my house with my sister.

Staying up late with my older brother Paul, laying on our stomachs in my room listening to the radio, trying to fight the tired so we could stay up and hear them count the Top 10 songs of the week backwards. All I remember song-wise from this time is Toni Braxton’s “Another Sad Love Song”. She has a line that sings ‘Be it fast or slow, it doesn’t let go or shake me’ which I always thought was ‘The passports show, it doesn’t let go’ and for some reason this made perfect sense to me.

Watching my little brother Jem learn to walk, his diaper making his little pajama-clad butt look hilarious and all of us laughing so hard as we clapped and cheered.

Getting our Christmas portrait taken at Sears every year. My mother made us all wear various Christmas-embellished ornaments and I have no recollection of feeling anything but excitement because I felt so, so pretty. Plus afterwards we got to go out to eat at a chain restaurant next to the mall.

When my sister and I would whisper ‘Are you awake?’ laying in bed. And then continue to talk until we both drifted to sleep.

When my dad would tell us made up stories about two brothers named Harry and George and the ridiculous antics they would get involved in.

Sleigh riding down the front hill.

My mom helping me take off my snowy boots.

Wrapping my red fingers around a mug of hot chocolate that was waiting for me at the kitchen table.

The love that was given to me every single day by my family.

In so many wonderful amazing ways.

And now as a grown up, sometimes I am so thrilled that I am able to repay even the tiniest bit of it.

I guess I just loved them.

I still do. So much my heart hurts.

That’s all.