Sudden memories

When I finish brushing, flossing, and swishing Listerine at night, I inhale quickly through my teeth and then smile big at the mirror just like my grandpa used to. He lost half of his teeth because he didn't take care of them. He passed on his lesson to us by making the process fun when we slept over. He'd hum songs and tell us about how fresh breath made people want to kiss us when we got older.... that one didn't win me over when I was little. But brushing my teeth still brings back memories. I make Papa Charlie faces when I'm practicing good oral hygiene.

Mom scanned an old letter from our babysitter and housekeeper, Ms. Linda. She was a lean, beautiful woman with curly hair, a deep, joyful laugh, and unending warmth. Mom and Dad had gone out of town, and she kept us for about a week. She left a note on the fridge telling them how nice it was. I've noticed a lot of people find it distasteful to call a housekeeper "one of the family," but she absolutely was. She died of complications with her kidneys; that was all anyone told me. But I remember how empty I felt when I knew I'd never hear her laugh on this earth again. I remember now that I've written about her before, but I can't think about her enough. I hope she can see me. I hope she's still proud of us.

I remember when Papa Charlie died, she came to my grandma's house unannounced, apologizing. "I'm sorry if I shouldn't have come," she began. And everyone protested. Someone helped her to a seat. "You're family," my mom and my mimi both said. At this Ms. Linda wiped her eyes and started to talk about my grandpa. Sometimes when I'm sitting in my parents' den, I imagine the ironing board up by the doorway to the kitchen. I imagine her watching TV with me as I heard steam escape quietly from the iron.

I saw a picture of a Daisy on google. I looked them up, because I miss them. I had them in my neighborhood back home, and now there are none anywhere. I should buy some. Once when Jake gave me some of those flowers, he said I reminded him of them. He said there was a reason they were my favorite. "Bright, beautiful, and tough as nails," he said, smiling. I don't know about that last one, but it made me want to be more resilient.