noodle

I remember when I was eight and my mom started crying when my dad didn't come home.
I remember when my very pregnant mom spent all of her time at the hospital with my very broken dad.
I remember when my mother went into early labor.
I remember when they told me my brother wasn't coming home any time soon because his heart wasn't working right.
I remember when my dad came home from the hospital and was missing the muscle on the back of his thigh. It was gross.
I remember when I caught the chicken pox and my brother couldn't come home from the hospital.
I remember not eating red sauce for about 9 more years because so many "thoughtful" people brought pasta casseroles for months.
I remember when my brother had his third open heart surgery to complete the Fontan procedure.
I remember 8 years ago when they told me that he was the third oldest living person with this procedure.
I remember a few years after that, when he developed a stroke disorder, drinking problem and abdominal migraines that he was the second oldest living person with this procedure.
I remember last year when they told me that he was the oldest living person with this procedure at 23 years old.
I remember the Ronald McDonald House in St. Petersburg as if it was my own home.
And when Legos were the bomb.
And listening to the Beastie Boys in secret so my mother wouldn't yell at me for corrupting my sister.
I remember when my brother's lips weren't blue anymore.
And the docs outlawed grape popsicles on the Cardiology floors at Boston Children's Hospital.
Because they were blue. For a bit.

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