I remember when we were so little; I must have been 3 or 4 and you were around 5 or 6 I guess. You had gotten too close to a mama dog on the ranch and been bitten on the cheek by her. I remember all the adults running around frantic and stressed because you had been bit. I remember the drama of it all and it's one of my earliest memories in life. I remember that you had a scar there for a few years but it was pretty well gone by the time you grew up.
I can still picture the way you used to look at me when you would talk, saying something exciting, something funny, trying to push my buttons in a good-natured way. I hope I can always recall these memories so easily. I am afraid of losing them over time.
Almost everything reminds me of you. I can find a way to involve your memory into almost any conversation. I think it must be bugging people at work by now but I think they also expect me to break down when I talk about you. I love talking about you, whether or not I have to cry about it. You were so wonderful and it's just so wonderful to remember you joyfully and sorrowfully.
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