My mom reading to Greta.
This is where Greta gets her red hair.
It's where I got my quirkiness.
Before this day, I hadn't seen her smile in so long.
I kind of forgot what it looked like.
Sometimes people die and you forget the sound of their voice
or you fear that you're going to.
Sometimes people die, and you try so desparately to recall
every little feature of their face and their hands.
She is alive, and sometimes I feared that
I'd forget what she looked like when she smiled.
It was good to see it again.