April 27.... again. Still.

Happy birthday, Jeanne Michele.

This time last year, you were lying on the sick bed, in the living room. I put up pictures of Walt Disney Land, and played the CD I made of Disney songs, and gave you microwave corndogs. Your favorite food, from your favorite place. Or as close as I could get you to it.

Remember how bad they smelled? Remember? You didn’t eat them – well, only one bite. And the pictures fell down all the time. I kept digging around behind the bed to grab them and put them back up.

Ok, so I forgot to get good tape! Who knew that scotch tape wouldn’t stick to the walls?

You smiled at me. You weren’t feeling well, but you smiled. We talked the trip we made to Disneyland. It was nice.

The year before last was a more fun birthday. We went to the city. First, we went to Asia SF. The food was ok, but the show was … terrific. Then we went to see that band I like, with our friends. You were all dressed up – or undressed up, I should say. And that drunken guy thought our friend was a dealer, remember? You laughed, and danced, and giggled all night.

Not now.

Happy birthday, Jeanne Michele.