Melissa: I grew up up on this road. Today is the anniversary of my mother’s death. I only have five memories of her and one of them is walking up and down this road, picking flowers with her. So, this is what I do, instead of going to a graveyard and crying. I try to make it a happy thing.
BW: How did she die?
Melissa: She died of breast cancer right before I turned six.
BW: What are your other memories of her?
Melissa: Well, one time I remember, I had made her a bowl of chicken noodle soup and a glass of Pepsi with ice cubes and took it to her. It was the weekend she died. She was like, “Don’t you want to stay here and make mommy another glass of Pepsi?” But, I had this awesome Aunt Becky who had lots and lots of money. They had horses for me down there. Know what I’m saying? Everything my heart desired. So, I left and that was the last time I saw her.
BW: Did you feel guilt about that?
Melissa: I did. For a long time, I did.