356/365, Cori Lorenzon

She had red, red hair and thick tight curls and the biggest, roundest blue eyes you ever saw. Once, she wrote from Paris, saying, “Most of the people here are bilingual, many are trilingual, and I, alas, lingual.”

357/365, Carolyn Skoog

The summer we were 13, she wore her long blonde hair loose and tight red Gloria Vanderbilt jeans and told all of our friends she was the super secret sister of John Schneider from the Dukes of Hazzard.

358/365 Jay

The day Nelson Mandela spoke in Cambridge, it rained so hard we chose, instead, to spend the whole day in bed. He said, “I love you, you know,” and it changed the way I loved anyone else, forever. [rewrite this one]

359/365, Goddess

Being deaf never stops her. Where I go, she goes. When I sleep, she sleeps. My delicious, flirtatious snugglebunny pixie stinkerbelle. My funny chocolate coffee fudge sandwich thief. My punkin’ noodle babydoodle. My morning smile. My nightly snuggle. My heart.

360/365, Apples

Fawn-colored leading man. My main squeeze. My sweet boy. Someone told him that Greyhounds are Beagles and should howl at sirens and sing in the house. Use your inside voice, Bubbie. Come, Poodle. Play dead. Gimme a kiss.

331/365, S.D.

June. Sushi. Ogunquit, Singing Beach. With blooms of lettuce from your mother’s garden, you made salad with mint and fresh tomatoes. Newport. July. Concord, Walden Pond, Newport News. When August faded to Fall, you were my September 11.

362/365, Mrs. Downer

The plump old woman with pendulous breasts from across the street. When I got my first brassiere, she came to congratulate me on the humiliation, the chore of extra clothing, the painful little nubs that wouldn’t hide anymore.

363/365, C.C.

The truth was, everyone who could hurt her, did. Beginning with her father, in ways that a father should rather die than do. Followed by her mother, who chose not to listen. Followed by me. Followed by you.

364/365, Mother

Her grandfather was a minister, and her grandmother marked her from the beginning as “wayward”. She could not keep a secret. She loved to sing. She loved Errol Flynn, Patsy Cline, roses, the British royal family. And me.

365/365, Richie

My very first crush. I was 4. He, 14, lived next door. I wanted to marry him. He wanted to ride his bike and climb trees. He didn’t see me.

It is a song that still plays today.