It wasn't easy growing up in a house full of adults who were watching over my mother who had been going through treatments for cancer that seemed to be one step ahead of the doctors. Being the young age of eight in an age when children weren't made privy to the goings on of the household, I never understood the gravity of the situation till much later in my life. My mother and father had separated soon after my birth and he came to visit once a week. I remember that before those visits, the house would be filled with tension. I longed to run to the woods to be far away when he came, but part of the reason for the visits was to keep him in contact with my brother and myself.

       During those years, the one calm and loving constant in my life was my grandmother who my brother and I called "Mimi". She was always there when we came in with cuts and bruises from some childhood accident with hugs and bandages and cookies and milk. Mimi was a little bit of a woman with an inner strength that made us gravitate toward her whenever we needed comfort. It was as if she knew that she needed to be the rock for us in an ocean of stormy waters.

      Mimi used to bake bread and would always involve me in the process by giving me a little hunk of dough that I could knead and bake in a miniature pan. I still remember how important that made me feel being able to make my own bread. My grandfather, Papa, would always say that he wanted Maryte's little loaf because it tasted best. I always felt so proud when he would cut the loaf in little slices, slather one with butter and act as if he were eating some rare delicacy.

     Some afternoons in summer, everyone would gather around the big kitchen table for a few hands of Canasta. Mimi patiently explained the game to me so that I could join in the fun. Looking back, I know that she let me win many times when she could have. The camaraderie around that table was wonderful with everyone laughing and joking. Papa and Mimi would get really competitive with each other and it was funny when Mimi would win and Papa would pretend that he was upset. It never lasted long and after playing, everyone would go out into the backyard and sit around the patio table drinking fresh lemonade and enjoying the sunshine.

      When my mother died, my father came for us and moved us out of the only home we had ever known. It was a very rough time for my brother and myself as my father was a stern man who was suddenly saddled with the family that he had sought to run away from years earlier. Even though we were no longer under Mimi's compassionate wings, she watched over us. To my father's disappointment, I visited Mimi and Papa often. They loved me as I was and accepted me unconditionally.

      Mimi and Papa helped me to be the person that I am today. They passed down their love, compassion, sense of justice, love of nature and animals to my brother and I. They were the corner stone upon which I was formed. I miss them terribly even though it has been years since they passed into the next world.