Dearest Allison:

There are times that I am inside of a moment when I am entirely conscious of the impact and meaning. Swept up in the idea of lingering impressions, I begin to wonder what kind of a memory I am filing away for future reflection. Will it sparkle brightly like a shiny silver Volkswagon Beetle on my darkest, bluest day? Will it be the tipping point of a decision, moving me boldly in a new direction? Will I linger inside of this idea slowly and painfully within a conquering nostalgic regret? Will it be lost or corrupted or unretrievable for years to come? Or more dramatically, will it disappear like the thinnest sheet of opalescent tissue paper, on fire and floating up, up, up until it disintegrates, leaving no trace of its existence?

To me, there are so many singular moments, and yet the most finite amount of space on which to store them. I wonder right now what miniscule part of my past I am erasing to make room for the memory of sitting in the sun on an emerging green and blazingly summer-like day in Boston, and writing you this letter.

At times, I long for a warning message, a log, a plainly intelligible list to tell me all that will be lost, before it is gone forever. I wish for the control over the deletia: one last chance to reflect, weigh, decide, delete. And then at other times, like right now, I forgo the control and simply bask inside of those treasures that I remember clearly, recalling them as slowly as I would sink into a steaming hot bath.

But when I think of your impending high school graduation, as I am doing upon the composition of this letter, one memory floats above all of the others and lingers longer than all of the rest.

It's a Christmas Eve when you were just two and a half years old and I was nearly 16. You in white and pink, me in green and black. We sat on Joan and Chuck's basement steps together. You atop my lap with legs askew. Me wrapped around your tiny frame, holding tight. At the beckoning of a camera, I leaned in over your shoulder, next to your deceptively angelic, sweetly smiling face just as the flashed popped and the shudder clicked. And as if we had just been ignited by a blazing heat and melted to our glowing liquid states, I felt us suddenly mix together.

There is a simple profoundness in that moment for me, yet inexplicable and barely breathing. It's a snapshot. A preserved picture that neither of us can ever truly witness from the outside, but rather possess forever in literal and figurative reflection. But for me, from that snap-click-pop, from that tiny moment on, in some private and other quite public ways, I have felt that my soul is so very closely tied to yours. And for me, that moment is the silvery thread that strings us together. And makes us more than family.

Allison, you shine inside my eyes. You are inspired hope. You are peaceful adventure. I feel as if a tiny part of me has lived all this time inside of you, has grown up inside of you, and at this point, that part of me is with you atop this breathtaking zenith. I live inside of this endless anticipation of where you are going and what you will see along the way. And most importantly, so very importantly, how you will choose to share your adventure, your spirit, and yourself with the world.

Biggest kiss… best love.

Aunt CheeseBallHead