These tiniest of images, incorrigible, lodged into the mud of memory, neither buried nor wholly retrievable, but only accessible in the last second of life. The dark haired girl holding the blonde newborn boy. The quietness during the hide-and-seek games then the sudden squeals of delight that pierce the air when they are found. The older girl walking the boy to his second day of school. The screams of the teenage girl when her brother teases her about boys. The revenge plan of the girl's succeeding. These images, these memories, fill their way into my head, ones that I have thought to have forgotten after many years, but still remain intact. These memories resurface, and each one being followed by another in sequential order, until my eyes prick with tears of love and joy, and then I'm gone.