6:21

I dreamt of you early this morning.
Your entire family was there.
And you were 23 again.
Your face was beautiful.
Your cheeks were flush.
Your eyes, the bluest ever.
Your voice the same.
It resonated in my head and heart.
Zaida was there.
Grandma was there, too.
I remember seeing Jenny, she
was young as when I met her,
19 or so. Uncle Mike. Your Mom.
It was a serious conversation.
We were all talking about something
serious. It was about you. You weren't
well.  And we were trying to figure things out.
You started to cry. You buried you face in your hands
as you sometimes did, when things were too much for you.
But for the most part you were strong, as you always were.
Your voice was strong. It was the one I remember.
You wore a pink oxford shirt and jeans, and those Eastland shoes.
I started to cry. I could feel your presence in my room.  It was so
strong.  It was you comforting me.  The room was warm and comfortable.
I cried and woke up and cried some more and looked at my cell phone for the
time. I knew, I knew, I knew, what time is was going to be...
6:21.
6:21.
6:21.
6:21.
It was definitely you...


~Love,
Kamela