I remember cookies in the shapes of our name I remember the hair stroked out of vanity
I remember you not agreeing with being full
I remember the bread not rising

And you still eating it
I remember picking your favorite flower
I remember you getting our post
I remember the Christmas music
I remember the plastic table for us to sit at
I remember you saying you won’t die from a tick I remember the wooden cross

And how it was removed later on
I remember the lamp that needed a warm up I remember slowing down for bumps
I remember the economical use of heating
I remember mediocre days
I remember no one liked the cake
I remember the golden anniversary
I remember Wednesday meant spaghetti
I remember avoiding the dolls
I remember looking at black and white
I remember the use of the wrong butter
I remember driving to the wrong place

And getting your car taken away
I remember remembering tree, house, flower
I remember the endless questions
I remember the breakdowns
I remember it turned into oblivion
I remember diapers were needed
I remember returning to childlike
I remember not knowing
I remember the fight
I remember how it changed
I remember the chaos we were in
I remember how you couldn’t remember anything