I posted this on facebook yesterday, and I am sure I have it in my journal, too, but I love this picture.
This was at my 14th birthday party at my house. Later we watched Desperately Seeking Susan and slept in my parents' living room.
The third to the last time I saw Leslie was the Wednesday night before she died. We played trivia and, afterward, she begged my brother and sister-in-law and I to go with her to Chubby's for one pancake. Just one. She held up her finger and wiggled it and said "Just one pancake?"
We went. I wasn't feeling good so I left the three of them there before the pancakes arrived. The next morning I asked her in her lj how the pancake was.
For some reason that wiggling finger and pleas for just one pancake is the image I get of her lately when I think of those last days with her on earth.
I miss her so much tonight I feel strangled.
I miss Leslie's obsession with Build-a-Bear.
This one's for you, Princey.
voice - for ames
I'll post later about at least three specific moments frozen in time for me about Leslie, but for now I want to memorialize her voice. She had a beautiful, velvety, expressive voice, a little low-pitched and throaty, sometimes giggly like a little kid's, sometimes whispery like she was sharing a confidence that only you
Her laugh! Oh my God! She had the best laugh!! It started from her toes and moved all the way up through her body until you knew that what you had just said was the funniest thing EVER and she was going to pee herself roaring over your little joke. And you'd find yourself falling down laughing with her because it was infectious, like effervescent glee bubbling out of her throat and sticking to you.
I wish I could bottle that voice and pour some out when I need a fix, into a crystal glass made of light. Current Mood: remembery