I remember....

Pulling onto their street after an insanely long drive in the backseat with my annoying brother and sister and looking for the cute barn-roofed house with the glass-enclosed front porch where Daddy was raised.
Grandma Helen driving us around Yonkers, teaching us to "blow out" the red stop lights so green ones would come on.
Sitting on the front porch with Grandpa Dante, either reading Our Daily Bread together or listening to him play the harmonica.
The smell as we walked into the entry... a combination of moth balls and Grandma's roast lamb.
Watching Grandpa cut wood in his basement shop.
Thinking it was a miracle that such a beautiful backyard garden could grow in such a dirty city.
Taking walks to and from the Catholic seminary, and feeling the Lord's presence amongst the tall trees that had probably been on the property since before New York was colonized. I could always tell Grandpa loved that place, even when his mind had begun to fail and he no longer remembered me.
Climbing the Statue of Liberty with Grandma and peering out of Lady Liberty's crown. It was hot, musty, and stinky from all the people, but still worth the climb up the steps.
Crawling through the "secret passage" from Grandma and Grandpa's room to the front closet.
Playing Chinese Checkers with Aunt Vivian and listening to her music box.
Over-hearing the neighbors yell at eachother in Italian.
Laundry hanging to dry from the rope...hundreds of feet above the ground, like you see in TV shows.
Visiting Bethany Chapel and Aunt Mildred and Uncle Herb.
Visiting Great Grandma and Great Grandpa at their home in the Bronx and having fresh picked currants.... and hoping Grandma and Grandpa would never forget me, the way my great-Grandparents did.
Running down the steep driveway, hoping I wouldn't fall flat on my face.
Grandpa telling me about how he met Jesus, and reminding me that Jesus promised we will never be plucked out of the Father's hand.
Standing atop the World Trade Center observation deck (With Grandma) and seeing the tiny people and match-box cars far below.
Going to the Bronx Zoo with Grandma and touching an elephant for the first time.
The little white dog barking on the other side of the fence a couple of houses down... Harry's lot seemed so big to me at the time. His white house was sold and replaced by a big brick duplex with no yard.
Closing all the doors and standing in the dark, tiny hallway.
Wondering how Aunt Ann survived life with 5 brothers.
Playing grandpa's little chicken and the fox game, and the triangle game like the one you play at craker barrel when you're waiting for your food. Except Grandpa made his games by hand from scrap wood, and the pieces were sanded so smooth. He put so much care into his wooden creations, and he loved trying to teach me the strategies. I was a poor student, and to this day I am terrible at the triangle game and don't remember the rules to the chicken and fox game.
Picking peaches from the tree in the back corner (or were they apples?) with the old coffee can attached to the long wooden pole.
Riding the subway to and from the city. One time, the car was completely clean and brand-new on our way into the city. On the way out, the same car (or what I perceived to be the same car) had been tagged with graffiti.
Watching kids double-dutch jumprope on rooftops as we rolled past them on the track.
Going into Macy's with Grandma (so we could see where they have the big parade), and seeing pianos for sale on one floor. I also remember looking at the clothes and thinking only the rich could shop there. It was fun to window shop, though!
Grandpa's duct-tape covered Bible, and his hand-carved toaster tweezers that also served as a pointer to help him keep his spot on the page. I always thought he should get a patent on his toaster tweezers.

These are some of the things that stand out in my mind when I look at the picture of the rose from Grandma and Grandpa's house. The past 5 years have been tough on the family, but the Lord finally took each of them Home and ended our loved ones' pain and suffering. We didn't get to see them often enough, but we knew they loved us. I hope I never forget. I hope my baby girl has many more memories with each of her grandparents and her great-grandma.