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CONTRAST - 15

My room still has wall decals of baby Mickey Mouse playing with blocks. As I got
older, more of my interests took up space on the wall - a Yellow Submarine poster,
a poster of the solar system. Anne promised to find me that same solar system
poster for my new room, since I'm living with them now.

We had to find new homes for the cats, since Uncle Web couldn't take them to
Kansas, and David and Anne have a large dog. Anne found a home for LG with a
friend who has experience rescuing cats.

My best friend Anna's mom agreed to take in Tommy. I remember finding him in
my backyard when I was 4. He's been my constant companion, and I was happy he
was staying with someone who would return him to me when I found a place of my
own.

After your fall, Tommy began roaming our house in search of you, meowing
throughout the night. He was traumatized as much as I was, and the move proba-
bly didn't help. Two weeks after moving to Anna's, he couldn't walk much anymore.
I visited and held him in a blanket in my lap, and he stopped meowing. He had an
accident on me, an issue we never had with him before, and he was also refusing to
eat. He barely made it through that night, and I knew what had to happen the next
day.

Anna's mom took me to the vet at 8 the next morning. He already looked half-
dead, tongue sticking out when I arrived. The vet thought Anna's mom was my
mom - understandable, we have the same hair color - and Tommy passed peaceful-
ly.

My mom used to say that she wasn't really my mom, you were. Both of us hat-
ed that. A female role model who looks after you does not need to be your mother,
biological or metaphorical. But I can't argue that you aren't like a mother.

Anna's mom has told me I'm like a third daughter. Anne feels she's gaining a
daughter as I come to live with them. During one visit, you called me your grand-
daughter and I corrected you. I said I was your niece. You said:

"Well, I adopted you, so."
I said: "You do have legal guardianship, true."
And you said: "Granddaughter is just how I feel about you."

It's hard to concentrate. I'm doing well in my classes so far, but we will have
to see what the rest of the semester brings. At least it's the last semester I have
before I graduate.

It's harder to even speak. I stumble over my words and forget what I'm saying
so much more. I don't have as many hours in the day.

It's hard not to cry in class, or when everything terrible comes into my mind as I
try to sleep at night, or when someone asks about what jobs I'm applying to.

Each time I visit, you seem more and more like yourself. You don't say "oh,
yeah" as much, and you talk and gesture like you used to. You say you're so proud
of me, even though you still can't believe I'm actually a senior.

I haven't yet finished the scarf I'm making you for Christmas. I will, though. I
promise you that.