I’ll remember your laugh, and your smile. Your beauty. Your hands. I’ll remember your inability to hide your emotion when you disapproved of something. The one eyebrow that had a mind of its own when you were suspicious, the pursed lips when you were exasperated. The wide eyes when you were in shock or confused. One thing I was always certain of is how you felt. And how you made others feel. How you made me feel. I will never forget how you listened to me and apologized. A seemingly simple thing to do that not everyone can afford someone they’ve hurt. I’ll always love you for that final gift. I’ll remember all the ways you tried and succeeded in making my life feel whole and full. From Easter baskets, and care packages well into my late 20s and 30s. How you paid for my AAA road side assistance just in case, even though I had already done it myself. The notes in your perfect cursive penmanship slipped into my lunch bags in elementary school. Singing Def Leppard and Cher in the car. The daily texts to say good morning and “sleep sweet,” even when I didn’t respond. And, when I did respond you never failing to fill me in on *everyone* from the past (whether I remembered them or not). Your Christmas cookies, your mashed potatoes. The time and effort you took to get to know my partner and his interests and make him feel so loved. It seems everything I see now reminds me of you. Butterflies, sunsets. Blooming flowers and wisteria. Sandra Bullock movies, hummingbirds, waterfalls. Dainty little jewelry that catches the light just so. Crafts and quilts. Wonton soup. The color purple. A handwritten note (yours are everywhere). You, like your love, feel so inescapable. I’m comforted by your presence all around me, even though you’re unable to console me with your words. You always put such an emphasis on memories and creating special moments. I can’t help but feel like no matter if you’re here physically or not, you will be felt. And I know that no matter where you are, you are loving me. I’ll love you forever too, Ma. Till we meet again, Trav