Her twinkling smile.
Her wiry curly hair, which was mostly grey with white tufts at the side. I used to tell her she looked like a koala.
Her fresh, powdered smell.
"Some of those old biddies don't wash, but me, I always smell nice," she'd say.
Five years have passed in a flash, but I'm determined to remember her, to not let the memories fade, and to tell my boys how special she was to me.
|Nan at the Alpaca Farm in Denmark (WA), 1994.|