Monday, June 30, 2008

2/365: Babe

She was my godmother and she died of ovarian cancer when I was 10. I remember her having a regal bearing, snow white hair, and a laugh I can still hear when I listen closely. When she died, my mother asked me what I wanted as a memory. I took an acrylic paperweight with a red rose etched in it, which I still have today.

Sunday, June 29, 2008

1/365: Angelo

Owned the corner grocery store when I was a kid. He and his wife loved us and let us steal candy from behind the counter, brought us into their kitchen, which smelled of Greek cooking, and kept kittens in the basement for us to play with. I remember the day we passed the store and saw a black wreath on the door–his wife, had died.