The night is cold and damp, and feels colder even without your repetitive line of questioning. I was always scared this would be too much big a change for you to handle, and it was too big a change for myself. We made your room into a reading area but we haven’t used it for much more than drying clothes. We’ve always had a hard time with that since we are so close to the river. My sister always says we live in Alaska because our home is so cold. We find the space heater useful for that. And for drying the clothes. One of the cats you used to try and scare away can’t help but stay near the heater, while I can’t help but notice the marks your bed left on the cork flooring. I’ve been keeping the mirror company. You were always scared  whoever was on the other side was getting lonely. Funny how your reflection, like you really was lonely. And now so is mine. I’m glad you’re happier now. You’re always so full of joy when I come visit and not being able to get a word out doesn’t stop you from talking and laughing. You’re still as nice as you used to be, back when you remembered. Sometimes I get a little scared you might be gone. But then I look a little harder and I see you. Some day you might actually be gone, just a shell of who you once were. But you’ll be the prettiest shell on the beach.