Remembering Amalia

My first babysitter was Amalia, and I was two when we moved away. I don't know her last name, but I knew she loved me. :-)

Remembering Amalia

I remember dappled sunshine through clear glass windows,
windows that with winter 
changed
into white and grey patterns.
“Frost,” she said.
I could still see the outside.
The backyard tree stuck its now-empty branches
into a gray sky that softly sifted 
white flakes down to us, 
all different
making a white carpet
outside.

I remember the back door in winter
opening.
A gust of cold wind,
and I wanted to explore.
“No!” 
I wanted to go into the outside,
but hands held me back.
“It’s cold!”
I thought the cold, and the wind
were spicy.

She found my brother’s snow suit,
“Here, it’s too big, but you’ll grow.”
Gentle hands zipping, snapping
Tying a bow under my chin.
I remember being warm inside the snowsuit,
outside, fluffy clouds of snow
Flakes melting on my face
more and more flakes falling
each one unique.

“You’re an explorer.”
I looked up, and she smiled.