Tiny I do hope that you pry your eyes from iridescent glory to steal a glance at us from up there some times. I remember how you would walk through the door in high spirit, intent on excising the residues of the day with a hundred "gists". You made our house a home for all of us. For you, there was always something to cheer about the worst of days - somehow trees had colors and a thunder never roared - it peeled with a ripping cymbals of divine choruses. You saw different shapes in snowflakes even when you disliked the cold that it brought with it. Rocks were never just stones, they were a series of fancy names that you called them. I remember vividly your obsession with beads and the amazing jewelries you made of Swarovski and other gems - and of course the thousands of miles you logged hunting down bargains in bead stores. When you set your mind to something you got it done, and nothing you ever did was average. I sure hope you look down at times. I sure do.