Tiny, it is the second summer since you left, and we left quite a trail on the East Coast chasing memories. By far the greater mementos for me were the friends you left. O how you are loved, Tiny! You picked carefully, and you picked well. Even now, their eyes mist-over at the memory of your friendship. We spent quite a few nights, over coffee, trading memories of you. They spoke so fondly of you; it was all I could do to hold my composure. They talked about your devotion and loyalty. Then they talked about your quiet cleverness – the cleverness of a spindle and a wheel, both nimble and real. There is a lovely house in Atlanta with two mementos of your restless creativity - a sculptured figurine ( a Nubian queen of sort,) displayed as a curio, and as a testament to friendship. They also had a piece of artifact in a box which you had had a hand in picking. They kept it though a part of it had broken off - too broken to display, too precious to discard. It is incredibly hard living without you dear, very hard.