Quotes About Memories

The summers before that are a blur of baby oil and Sun-In and hating our bodies (I got big breasts; Tibby got no breasts) at the Rockwood public swimming pool.

Why not celebrate what you had had rather than spend your time mourning its passing? There could be joy in things that ended.

Once upon a time there was a pair of pants.

To honor the Pants and the Sisterhood And this moment and this summer and the rest of our lives Together and apart.

What a history they had together, not together.

Sombras de antepasados olvidados, trad. de Miguel Muntaner Pascual y María del Mar Moya Tasis, Barcelona, Planeta, 1993.]

I was allowed to hold her just once. They didn't want you to bond at all with the baby. Some women chose not to see their babies. I just could never imagine that. I wanted to see that face. I'll never forget it as long as I live. You never forget that face. —

Birthdays of a child who has died are strange events.

Books Our Mother Loved" (here she placed Indiana and The Devil's Pool, Jane Eyre and Wuthering Heights), "Books Our Father Loved" (here she placed The Lady With the Dog and Other Stories, Great Expectations, and Twelve

My first trip to New York City, when I was seven, was a world wind of Macy's, the Empire State building, and club sandwiches at a diner. On a whim, my parents took us there for the day, and my strongest memory is a revolving doors. It seemed to me than that to enter anywhere in Manhattan, you had to step into one and spin.

My first trip to New York City, when I was seven, was a whirlwind of Macy's, the Empire State building, and club sandwiches at a diner. On a whim, my parents took us there for the day, and my strongest memory is a revolving doors. It seemed to me than that to enter anywhere in Manhattan, you had to step into one and spin.

I think beaches kind of get in your blood, and if you grow up near one you never feel quite right when you're away from it.

And so, note in hand, I led my friends back to my room, where we promptly fell asleep and didn't wake up until eleven o'clock the next morning.

Remerber when the Babbysiters club took car of forteen children?

Jessi shot Mallory a sidelong glance. She remembered how Mal had celebrated Kwanzaa with the Ramseys the year before. The memory made something inside her tighten with sadness.

I remembered that Stacey was wearing a matching top and skirt made of gray sweatshirt material with big yellow number tens all over it. Her hair was pinned back with clips shaped like rainbows. Little silver whistles were dangling from her ears. It was all very cool, but it seemed kind of young looking. And she was drinking a glass of milk.

Later, Mom found the pictures of Mimi. We compared pictures of Mimi at twelve to pictures of me at twelve. We could have been twins. That night, I slept with one of the pictures of Mimi under my pillow.

Myriah and Gabbie jumped up from the table. We know White Christmas, said Myriah. And I'll Be Home for Christmas. Claudia was surprised. They did? What about the simple songs like Jingle Bells or Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer? But the Perkins girls know a lot of long, grown-up songs, and sure enough they knew both of these word for word. They performed them with hand motions and everything.

This, I thought, must be full of pictures of me. But it wasn't. Not exactly. It was full of pictures of Janine and me.

The burial service began. It was quite short, but Stacey remembers much more about it than I do. All I remember is thinking, as the casket was being lowered into the ground, Mimi's not in there. So I didn't cry. A bunch of men were just putting a box in the ground. That was all. Then Mom made me throw a white rose into the hole. I thought, What's the point? Mimi won't see it, but I did it anyway (since we were being formal).

All I wanted was something normal, a day like last Tuesday when Mimi was still alive, which was less than a week ago. I wanted to walk to Stoneybrook Middle School with Mary Anne, open the side door, which we sometimes use because it's close to my locker, saunter through the halls, look for the other club members or maybe for Dorrie Wallingford or Ashley Wyeth or some other friend, and hope that a boy would notice my outfit and smile at me.

I wished my dad had seen it.

We put them together so we'd never forget our family feud.

Christmas books.