Rosie (By: Jess)

There is this woman.

She means the world to me.

She has seen and helped me grow up, taught me specific life lessons, and is responsible for so many memories that I have.

She is not my mother or my grandmother.

She is my former babysitter. And my life would be totally different if she wasn't apart of it.

I'm getting ready to go visit Rosie today. I am beyond excited!

I call her "Rosie", but that's not her name. He real name is Ileana. Her last name is "Rose", so maybe that's where the nickname cam from. I'm still not 100% sure. My sister and I were not able to pronounce her real name, so "Rosie" is all I have ever called her.

She was a patient of my dad's and he "hired her" to look after Jill and I on occasion when my parents would go out to dinner on a Friday or Saturday night or when they would go on vacations.

I can remember my mom getting ready to go out with my Dad and Jill and I anxiously awaiting the arrival of Rosie. She always came bearing games, records, or something special for us. Sometimes she brought her "international coffee" (Cafe Mocha) and would always let me have a sip.

She taught me how to play Chinese checkers and rummie. She taught me songs like "A Bushel  and a Peck" and "Ring Around the Rosie". She taught me how to say my prayers and to this day I still have them memorized. She taught me that warm milk and honey helps to fall asleep and how to have a tea party that seemed soooooo real.

I remember making homemade bread with her and her husband and I remember that coconut lamb cake and chocolate truffles she would make us every year for Christmas. I remember the endless amount of books she would read to us and how she would always make my parents bed for them as a special surprise! I remember how she used to make the BEST mac and cheese by adding extra milk and how she would sometime speak french to us and we were mesmerized!

Every year for Christmas we gave her a book of stamps and she would be soooooo happy. One time she gave me a tiny pack of Kleenex because I told her I liked the one she had and she gave my sister a pencil because she liked to write. I learned early in life that it is "the thought that counts" and maybe that's why my Love Language is gift giving.

She is 91 years old and dosent have one gray hair. Still blows my mind.

She was the first non-family member I called to inform that my Dad had died. I can still hear her comforting words and sympathetic voice, as she tried to hold back her own tears.

She is the woman who caught my eye while I was walking down the isle at my wedding and that's when my tears started flowing. I can still picture her, sitting in the front pew, wearing a special flower pinned to her blouse, smiling at me and looking so proud.

I love her so much it always makes me cry.

She is a little old lady, with a tiny frame, with jet black hair and glasses. Her smile, smell, and embrace are so familiar to me and always make me feel like a child again. I am so lucky to have a woman like this in my life. Not many people do. I thank God for Rosie and for her presence in my life.