And it's weird, but right now the only thing I can only really think of one memory of her. I mean, I should be flooded with recollections, but instead it's this one time. And It wasn't the last time I saw her, or even the most meaningful. I'm outside her house, and we're picking Kyle up to go to something at a Casino and I don't really want to go, but my mom wants me to, and it's not like I'm doing anything better. She comes outside to say hello, and her face is bright red because the bandages just came off. She spent all this money getting laser surgery to smooth out her wrinkles, and it worked, but now her face looks all smooth and red like an apple. I know I saw a few times after that, at least three or four. I vaguely remember her giving me cookies. And the more that I think about it, most of my memories aren't about her as much as her house. I remember the mirrored wall near the bedrooms, which were usually off limits. And the three or four living rooms, if you counted the couch that Henry sat on when he sat there staring at the heater where the stove used to be. More than that though, I remember her porch. The house was on a hill so the front was level with the street and the back was raised off the ground. And I remember that they let the tree grow up through it, and Henry would cut away the porch to give it more room, but that meant that you were never to go near that hole, and I did fall in one time, but it was just my foot and it really wasn't that bad. Kyle and I managed to get me out and I only barely got my pants dirty.

Whenever I think of her she's smiling, and she still has the wrinkles around her mouth and eyes.