I Never Want to Forget

The touch of her soft, wrinkled hand.

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.