Will You Remember?

Will you remember April 2014, my dearest Evie? My dearest Ellie, Nathan, and Jonah?

Will you remember dozing in the swing and on my chest and in my arms--and my snitched kisses to your soft cheeks and neck?

Will you remember pompoms on white leather boots and flower tights that would never stay up?

Will you remember helping Evie to build her very first snowman? Will you remember looking for rock eyes and rock buttons?

 Will you remember pulling out of the driveway and every time asking about our little snowman? Will you remember being sad when he completely disappeared?

Will you remember reaching the conclusion that the big snowman down the street must be dead because his head fell off and "You can't be alive without a head"?

Will you remember eating dirt and grinding the gravel between your teeth, no matter how hard Daddy tried to dig it out?

Will you remember watching "Frozen" on the iPad at least once each day, and fighting with your Auntie to please sit down?

Will you remember your very first pinwheels?

 Will you remember piling into the cart at Walmart and not missing Mom at all, because Grandma let you pick any toy in the entire store?

 Will you remember what you got?

A big green ball and your first clicky-clack shoes and real princess crown?

Will you remember playing princesses for three solid days--tiny toes hanging over pink soles?

Will you remember that Evie was always Elsa and you were always Anna? Most importantly, will you remember that you didn't even mind? Will you remember how much you looked up to Evie, because she was four, and you were still two?

Will you remember how it felt to be a big brother, even though you were still so small? Will you remember the way you said, "Why?" or "Dadddeeee" or "peeeese"? Will you remember how it melted my heart when you allowed me to rock you with your blanket when you couldn't leave with Daddy? And how you lingered there on my shoulder, even after your tears had stopped?

Will you remember the hours we spent playing together--up and down the slide and up and down on the trampoline?

Will you remember sun-bathed breakfasts of Life cereal or oatmeal as I tried to keep you quiet so Mommy and Daddy could sleep just a few more minutes?

Will you remember bath time and nap time and snack time and story time and snuggle time?

Will you remember the nights we all slept together in the basement, and I came to comfort you and held your hand through bad dreams? Will you remember Daisy the unicorn and the flashlight in her tummy that took two clicks to turn on? Will you remember that Daisy took away all of the scary dreams?

Will you remember answering the "Who loves Grandma?" question with an awkward raise of your hand and a loud "ME!" in response? Will you remember miles of tissues from dozens of snotty noses and stinky bums that all needed wiping?

Will you remember the first times you held your baby brother . . .

 . . . or when you all squished together on the couch to take a few pictures and no one could hold the baby, because you all fought about it?

Will you remember? No, you won't. You are little and rambunctious and beautiful and perfect, but you are little.

Who will remember? I will.

Because I'm your mama. And your grandma.