I looked in the mirror yesterday, and my reflection reminded me of my Great Aunt Ann. Maybe it was the way my hair looked at that moment. For some reason, I saw her face, and not my own. I don’t think about her as often as I think of my grandma, whose ring I wear daily. But yesterday was different. Yesterday, she crept into my thoughts. 

It’s been about 11 years since she died, but her memory lives on through her nieces, nephews, grand nieces, and grand nephews.

I remember summers in Illinois. My cousins and I would ride our bikes or walk up the street around the corner to her house. My grandma would call ahead of time to let her know we were on our way. It didn’t take long–a five minute walk, if that. She’d be standing at the door of the screened-in porch waiting for us to ‘park’ our bikes. I can still hear her voice, telling us to come on in and asking if we wanted a Popsicle. She always had Popsicles. 

Some days we’d sit on the porch. Other days, when it was too hot, we’d sit inside. We’d stay for a little while, watching tv or listening to the radio before we got back on our bikes and trekked back to grandma’s house.

I don’t know why, but yesterday, I remembered my Great Aunt Ann. And I wish, for a moment, I could go back to those childhood summers–sitting with her on the porch, eating Popsicles without a care about what happened that day or what the next day would bring.  

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