To my little cousin Marquel,
The amount of memories that were made during your life are too many to sum up in words, but I will try my best.
Memory #1: When your mom was pregnant with you, I remember how specific she was with her food. If any mistakes were made at the restaurant, your dad was usually tasked with having to go back and fix the order.
Memory #2: The day before you were born I was terrified. I was in 5th grade and our country had just been attacked. However, finding out that my new baby cousin had come reminded me that there was still good in the world.
Memory #3: You had begun to stand, and Monique and I felt it was our duty to teach you how to walk. So, whenever you would come over, Monique would snatch you from your parents, we would stand around you and begin to chant “ Markie, Markie, spaghetti o!” We thought this would encourage you to walk... it didn’t, but we got to see you dance.
Memory #4: Our parents moms decided it would be a good idea to spend 2 weeks in West Helena during the summer. You were probably almost 2 and I was a preteen. You and I were left in the van so that Auntie and mom could go in the store. I was homesick, cramping, and hot... so I started crying... and then you looked over at me from your car seat and started crying too. I felt so bad and hugged you and begin to apologize for scaring you like that.
Memory #5: When you were a toddler, your parents lived in this apartment in Irving. It had a small sunroom which Uncle Boo decided to turn into a mini office with the computer. I remember watching you navigate through the computer at ages 1 and 2 like an expert. I knew you were a genius then.
Memory #6: When Auntie used to make her healthy meals and all of us would be sitting at the dinner table trying to force ourselves to finish the meal, you would blurt out something along the lines of “Mom, that was the best meal ever, but it would have been better if it had a little bit more salt.” That’s when I knew you had a way with words—and you were a momma’s boy.
Memory #7: All hades would break loose if your foods touched—i.e. see memory #1
Marquel, these are not even a quarter of the memories that were made, but they are some of my fondest. What I want you to know now is that your family loves you—we always did—we always will.
