Happy Heavenly Birthday Beautiful Eloise

I can remember her knee’s creaking in the early morning hours as she walked down the hallway that opened into our bedroom doorways. I can remember her making the best tuna fish for sandwiches, with the mayonnaise I have gone though life loving, and no onions because I have never liked those. And in case you’re wondering she used Blue Plate and other than her, I am the only one in my family that uses that brand.

I can remember her famous cinnamon toast that she made at least once a week for breakfast. She made up her own – using both cinnamon & sugar – none of that store-bought stuff, and the house would be radiating with that smell of melted-butter and cinnamon.

Her fried chicken was the best around and so was her sweet tea. I can’t remember much of anything that she cooked that I didn’t like, but also, I was there for summer visits so I feel like she cooked all my favorites with intention.

At least one or two nights I would sleep with her and goodness did she snore. I would ask her to wait until I feel asleep and she could never seem to wait. I would nudge her and tell her she had fallen asleep and was snoring, and she would whisper, “No baby, I’m just resting my eyes”.

I can remember her smell, a combination of baby powder and Chantilly perfume. Her hair would smell like Aqua Net hairspray if we were going somewhere special for the day.

I can remember her bright green polyester pants and her old-timey rubber flip flops that sat by the back door, ready for yard-walking. Other than those rubber flip flops - at home, her size 5 teeny feet were barefoot.

I can remember she and I coloring in color books for hours at the time, while she watched her afternoon “stories” – The Edge of Night, A Secret Storm, and The Young and Restless. She also taught me how to cross-stitch one summer as I had grown out of coloring and had moved on to wanting to sew like she did.

But most of all, I can remember her laughter. My grand did we ever laugh a lot. And tickled; we’d both get our “tickle boxes” turned over, as she used to say, and we would laugh so hard our faces would turn red and we could barely breathe. She was in her sixty’s by then, but you would have thought she was a young teenage girl as silly as she let herself get when she was with me.

But I can’t remember her voice. She has been in heaven since 1987, she had her 104^th birthday on April 24^th, and I can’t remember her voice. I try and I try, I close my eyes, and listen hard inside my head/memory, but I can’t hear her. I don’t know how her, of all people who have left, I can’t hear her. 

But I know in my heart she’s still with me, I see signs of her surrounding me all the time. So, I guess until I see her again, the memories of her laughter, and the sightings of butterflies will have to do.