I found out that you never told your children your stories. They asked, and you evaded.

Funny, though, that you would take the 6 year old me as your confidant, and spend hours telling me everything. You made it seem like a fairy tale. You also spent so much time and energy keeping me occupied and making me happy- did you have this much to give your own children?

I have your picture on my wall. The one with the sad 6 year old's face. It was my favorite of you when I was little. I saw something familiar in the eyes.

Now that your mind has splintered, and only some parts remain with us, I wish that I remembered more of your stories.