my missy

for my great-aunty. who left me her beautiful life-size lioness, missy, because six years ago i refused to walk around her house and mark her things with my name on a piece of masking tape.

My only Great-Aunt Elaine,

It is spring. Although the air is cold and biting where I am sitting, the frosty white petals of the cherry blossoms softly whispering of snow on the tips of twigs, spring really is here again. Somehow I think that all of the cold is not just the wind this year. Many, many hundreds of miles have separated us throughout the years, and yet I am reminded of you every morning when I wake up. Even in the still quiet darkness when all the world is sleeping, I can see the silhouette in the moonlight of a graceful lioness, her green and steady eyes always watching near my bedroom window. Missy is safe, here, in her third home with us.

My children have thrown pillows at her feet by the fireplace and read stories. The littlest ones, barely walking, held onto her strong back, creeping around her stillness, standing nose-to-nose and hugging her fiercely about the neck. The older ones draped their arms off the end of the couch and absent-mindedly rubbed her head and back while they read. I have removed sloppily-dressed cowboys from her back more times than I can count, and really, you would laugh at all the hats she has worn. She still looks dignified, even with a purple clown wig tied with a pink scarf while sporting a sparkling rainbow cape. Trust me.

As the winter winds warm, and the leaves burst out of buds, green and new, the days will grow longer and deeper. I will remember reading and drawing in the sticky afternoons on your deck and sitting under the umbrella on the patio. I will remember long walks around the neighborhood in the setting sun, up the tall hills, pausing sometimes to listen to grownup chatter along the way. I will remember how the crickets came out to sing, the fireflies came out to dance. I will remember the deepening night sky when we would watch with muffled gasps and wide eyes as the raccoons invaded the yard from miles around to eat the loaves of stale bread you gave us to scatter for them. I will remember the way you would proudly play any of your beautiful music boxes on request and set your Woodstock chirping in the kitchen window.

I have a little piece of you embedded in my heart. And really, that is all anyone could ask for in the end.