"oh that's great bean," I can hear her saying to me as I tell her about the mac and cheese I made in her le creuset yesterday. She'd love to hear about Cecilia eating serving after serving of the meal. She'd chuckle and tell me about what she was planning on making that day on her stove. We'd compare recipes, techniques. We'd talk about the weather. I'd know when it stopped raining in Brunswick. I'd know what was in at the farmer's market. A glance of my weather patterns to expect as they blew up the coast. She'd ask after every moment of Gaber's development, listen to every smile, every grab of the hand. I'd listen to stories of who she ran into as she rode her bicycle about town. There are so many moments left unshared, so many rings of the telephone unrung and yet I see her everyday in the things she left behind. In the glimpses of her I hold in my home, in my heart. Even the look in Ce's face as I see more and more of her Mimi in her.
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