Lovely. . . that was how Papa used to call me. I had forgotten that but was reminded recently when Mama, due to my insistence, started looking for long-lost family pictures. I need the pictures for the wedding after all. In her initial forays into the daunting pile of boxes which hold most of our earthly possessions (having decided not to unpack most of them after we transferred here, Lola's house) she found some pieces of paper, yellowed with age. They were Papa's scribbled notes to himself regarding various topics. This particular piece of paper had a rundown of a family outing they had planned for Honey and myself -- a day at the carnival. That was in 1990, a year before Papa passed away.
The items on the note sounded so much like Papa. He wrote the way he spoke. One item on that list was a reminder to himself to allot a certain amount of money for "Lovely and Honey to spend to their heart's content. . ." That's when I remembered that Papa didn't call me Mitzi. He tended to call me Lovely. . . .
Reading that note made me miss Papa and brought a wistful smile to my face. I had forgotten that nickname. . . It's good to somehow remember it now. . . .
Lovely. . .
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