Remember me.
Remember me when you are old.
Remember playing in the yard and you took five steps for every one that I took.
Remember sitting on my lap while I played piano for you; it was the only time I remember you being quiet.
Remember making pancakes with me after begging for days and the first one came out wrong and the smoke detector went off because we forgot to turn off the stove.
Remember walking across the stage at graduation and being embarrassed because I was cheering so loud.
Remember rubbing my beard with your little hands and annoying me.
Don’t remember me like this.
Dying.
