Dear Doris,

I only had you for 6 years. My dear Aunt Mickey.

My 6th birthday was my most magical.  Not because I went to Disney World.  Because I got almost 2 weeks straight with you.  To create and be silly.  Those are the two most important lessons you taught me.  And to love with my whole heart unabashedly.

You'd listen to Peter plonk away at the piano over the phone.  You even let him hold a concert in the community center.  You let me make paper hats out of brochures and made me feel like they were from the finest milliner in Paris. You patiently strung beads with me and created epic play-do villages for us.

You trapped us in the fart sack.  Oh how we giggled and laughed and begged for more! Your laugh. I think we played along just to hear it.  You could have asked us to jump off a bridge and we probably would have because we loved you so.  Instead, you threw us in the pool fully clothed.

You taught me how to catch lizards.

I remember your voice.  Clear as a bell. Sometimes I hear it when Helen or Lois talk, but just not quite so. Every time you called us felt like an event and we would compete over who got more phone time with you.

Stories about you are my favorite.

You spoiled me that birthday - 6 years old felt like such a big deal. You bought me my first ginormous pack of crayons.  You helped me line them up by color over and over again.  My ballerina bear - oh how I treasured her! With satin slippers and a floral crown. You knew just how to make us feel so important.

The place mats we made - pouring over all the cards you had collected and deciding how to trim each one into the best circle. Then trimming them with the pinking shears. I'd never known scissors could be so heavy!

You were larger than life.

You saved me.  I jumped in the pool and my floaties came off.  You weren't supposed to get in the pool because you'd had surgery and the doctor told you not to. There weren't any other adults there, mom was just far enough away.  I remember dropping to the bottom of the pool and feeling panicked because I hadn't mastered swimming yet. I looked up as I sank down and it was getting dusky and I was so scared. Then you were there, fully dressed, pulling me up.  I remember thinking about this months later, when I learned you had died.  I thought maybe jumping in the pool when the doctor told you not to had been why you'd died. I told this to someone and they quickly reassured me this wasn't right, but I still worried.  You left a really big hole.

I'm so glad we have old family videos that you are a part of. So so glad.

The summer after you passed away, I was playing outside and all of a sudden I could smell you. I was so sure you were playing a trick on me and I ran into the backyard to try to find you. I knew you couldn't possibly be there, but I so hoped by some magic that you were.  It happened again when I was in college.  I think you just knew that I needed to know you were still there looking out for me.  Still playing your tricks!

I remember sitting around the dining room table after Aunt Mary moved up to Iowa and we were going through all her old pictures. That was the first time I learned that your name was Doris.  I was gobsmacked.  You were a Mickey through and through, yet here was the proof that you were actually a Doris. It felt kind of neat to still get to learn more about you so long after you'd gone.

Aunt Mickey, you were pure magic. I strive to embody your spirit in everything I do. Grams tells me I'm a lot like you and it's the best compliment I could ever receive. I think of you often. I sometimes still get a little bummed out that I got you for only a short while. I like to think you made the most of the time we did have.  You were my first kindred spirit. You showed me that there are people in this world who would "get me" in all my artsy fartsy weirdness. You are still a huge part of my creative motivation - to push myself to try new things just to see if I can.  Because you always made it seem we could do anything we wanted to if we just tried.

You are still my most favorite human being of all time.

I miss you.  But, I know you watch over this crazy family of yours.  Your spunkiness lives on! I'm honored to know you were a part of my family.

(she's on the far left - hamming it up per usual)