Alexis Renee

The day you were born,

so were a lot of other babies.

But I only remember one of them

‘cause my parents brought it back to our house.

It’s a good thing, too, because

you make me laugh harder than most people can laugh,

and laughing is a life-lengthener. So, thanks.

I owe most of my life to you.

You’re not just hilarious, though.

You’re good at lots of stuff.

Like writing (even though you don’t think so),

and playing soccer.

I love that you’re so sentimental.

You kept a bunch of acorns from our old house.

And you still have your baby teeth

(but not in your mouth.)

You kept the last grass Cally ever laid on, too.

I watched you watch her die and you cried

so I cried- just like I did when you told me

about Opa sleeping peacefully because God is awake.

As your older sister, I have a responsibility

to teach you how to do things.

I taught you how to shave your legs.

But you taught me how to use a tampon.

I suppose I have to teach you not to do things, too.

Like smoke. I’m glad that made you angry.

Thank you for caring enough to write

me and Kai those notes.

I’m watching you get older through pictures.

You’re beautiful and I’m missing it.

Did you get your eyebrows done recently?

Hahahahaha! Giggs.

I hope you never stop living a life worth writing about

or forget that better things are coming.

Thanks for standing in the lake with me that day

and for holding my hand under the water.

I’d say you have a heart of gold,

but that’s pretty overused so I’ll say

you have a heart of some other precious metal instead.

I’ll let you know when I think of one that’s good enough.

Can you imagine?

Hey Opster.

Today it's been a year since you've left us.
But I know if I saw you now, the first thing you'd say is
"Howdy doody!"
And you'd tell me about all the phenomenal things you've seen
since we spoke last.
And you'd ask,
"Can you imagine???"

You know, I only knew you for 22% of your life.
But, at the time, you knew me for all of mine...
so it's okay.

I'd expect you're still wearing that same brown vest everyday
with your York Dukes baseball cap.
But I'll bet you don't worry about dangerous fungus

taking over the world anymore.
Or the Russians.
We still hear the shuffling of your slippers around the house.
It's not that creepy. We kind of like it.
I will still always expect there to be a puzzle in progress on your table
and it will always be "Opa's room."
Your rooms were always my favorite rooms.
I don't think I will ever feel as comfortable anywhere as long as I live.
I loved finding your silverware in our drawer
because it was just another excuse to go back to your part of the house.
You made our dogs fatter
but our cat happier.
All the mausers miss you.
And I miss Lithuanian phone calls and newspapers
and the 10:00 news too loud when we were trying to sleep.
I might even miss the incessant weather updates

for other parts of the country
and the weird smells of the food you cooked.
And I also miss that little bus coming by
to take you, in your suit, to lunch.
Why did you always wear that suit to go out???
Even on scorchingly hot days!?!
I'm sorry for never putting on socks

when you told us we'd get sick if we didn't.
Even though that never made us sick,

we could have just done it.
But... you could have just put your teeth in too...
and you rarely did that, so... I guess we're even.

I'm sorry Kai broke your typewriter
and that he sometimes slept in your bed when he was little
because he was scared of being alone.

And I'm sorry for not being home

for your last and 90th birthday.
Why did we even go to Hermann that one year?
We still aren't sure, but we hope you liked it.

I'm also still not sure why

you would sometimes ask us for ice cream
even though you hated all things cold.
No ice in your drinks.
"Sippy sippy Mississippi."

Another thing I don't know
is why my mom considered you a suitable supervisor
when we wanted to go in the pool.
But now that I think of it,
maybe she meant for us to watch each other.

Thanks for always picking up the sticks in the backyard.
And giving us root beer and candy
(even though some of us hated it).
And thanks for always letting us play with your magnifying glass
and pretend your footstool was a boat.

I'm so glad you got to meet all your grandchildren.
When we told you the thriteenth was born you said
"A dozen is a dozen but thirteen is more."
Ain't that the truth.

You can remember things now, I'd assume.
Do you remember when we got out the video camera
and asked you what advice you had?
You told us to go on a walk
until we found a really good tree.
And you told us to climb it;
that we'd never regret it.

I think that's the best advice I've ever gotten.

You sure did love walks,
even though you were really slow at them.
And you sure did love trees... and trimming them.
Good grief.
I'm sorry that we hid your saw so many times
but you really needed to calm down about those trees.
If there's any forestry where you are
I'm sure it's perfectly pruned.