i will save time,
littlest brother.
i will wrap it up
and put it into a box
to mature,
like a rare cheese
only for you and me.

on the day
that you come to me
and want to know
what it was like
before mom left
because you won't remember,
i will open our box
and show you.

first i will take out
a lock of mom's blonde hair
that used to fall
down to her waist
and i will tell you
what it looked like
in the sunshine
while we made
daisy chains.
i will tell you
how it turned brown
later on
and how mom let me sit
on her bed
and twist, twist, twist
for hours,
because i didn't know how to braid.
and how me and Erika sat
in front of the space heater
and dried off
after a bath
mom crocheting
on the bed,
singing.

then i will remove from our box
a crisp, shriveled leaf
from the Big Tree
and i will let you smell it.
i will say,
this is what
home smells like...
never forget,
littlest brother.
i will sit you on my lap
and paint you pictures with my fingers
i will reveal to you little indian huts
and smoky firepits
and *****, chipped toes.

lastly
i will steal from time
and will take from our box,
what is rightfully ours
and i will give you
the last shred
that i have saved
for so long...
just for you, littlest brother.
i will give you mom and dad
together.
happy.
i will give you mom and dad
in their funky, attic-smelling bathing suits
mom's tummy protruding with another older sister for you
standing on the hot stones
dad's big, funny glasses
glinting in the sun,
a sun that shown down
on something whole
something perfect.
i will give you mom and dad
snuggled under a blanket
on the couch
watching a movie together
mom giving dad 'the look'
as he chuckles...

littlest brother,
i will do all i can
to create memories for you...
because everyone deserves to remember
something happy...
littlest brother,
i will steal from time
all i can
all for you...
until time decides to take back
what is rightfully his.