My Nonni, which is what I called my grandma, used to call me"Angel." I loved that...believing that one day I would fly, and ever since, I've loved angels, fairies, unicorns, and butterfly wings.
My mom has always said that she was a beautiful soul, too gentle for this world. I looked forward to her laughter, followed by a hacking cough, because she smoked pack after pack of cigarettes. Sadness surrounded her though, the shades drawn, amber pill bottles filled the coffee table next to the worn upholstered chair that she sat in for most of her day. She loved to watch General Hospital, and I would sit and watch with her. We would talk about the characters, and how horrible Erica Cane was. She bought me frilly Easter dresses, and made me feel like a beautiful and treasured doll. At her funeral, I carried my first born son on my hip. She would never hold my babies in her soft arms. I miss her. She is the angel that watches over me.
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