Remembering Mama Cathy.

The other day I asked Fiona if she remembered visiting Mama Cathy and Papa Joe when we were in St. Louis. “You remember,” I prompted. “She gave you a ride on her special wheelie chair.”

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“And she sang that song to Bianca? You know, the one that went “Oh Bianca, oh Bianca, you’re so beauuuuuutiful.”

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“Remember? She’s married to Papa Joe?”

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She looked at me with her little brow furrowed, thinking, remembering. Suddenly she lit up. “Oh, yeah! I remember! She had cookies at her house in a jar! They were those bird cookies.”

“Bird cookies?”

“You know, the kind with chocolate on the outside and cream on the inside?”

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Sleep well, Mama Cathy. Thanks for the oreos.

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