Things I Want to Remember Forever

My dad's eyes: half brown half gray, outlined in blue; they way they light up and crinkle at the edges when he's just made one of his cheesy jokes or seen something that makes him happy. His laugh: starting out quiet, then quickly escalating to a contagious rumble. His smile: when he's happy, spreading slowly over his face like molasses; when he's trying to hide it, just the smallest upturn of the corners of his mouth, only betraying his true feelings to those who know him well enough to recognize it.

My mom's quirks: the way she chews on the right side of her bottom lip when she's reading something; the way she gets a little knot of consternation between her eyebrows when she's focusing on something she wants to get just right; the look she gives me when I've done something unacceptable, the one that's come to be known as "the look" between me and my sister. Her constant devotion: the way she'll act annoyed when I ask her to do something for me, but still not be able to deny me; the way she comes up behind me while I'm doing dishes late at night and wordlessly takes them from me, more concerned for my sleep than her own. Her smile: a contagious thing that lights up her entire face. Her laugh: care-free and with no inhibitions when she finds something funny; a goofy little "ha ha ha" when she's trying to be sarcastic and show me that my joke wasn't as funny as I thought it was.

These are the things I want to keep with me forever, tucked away in my back pocket for safe-keeping, for a day when I'm feeling particularly nostalgic. My childhood memories, my comfortable familiarity with these things; it's all part of the appeal.

(This is a work in progress.) I'm working on stuff for the rest of my family, and my friends as well.