Maud

I remember Susan's smile. It was sincere, I shone, and would light up her face. She laughed encouragingly. I remember she was bothered by her weight, and was continuously cycling through diet plans. I remember she and her husband slept in separate beds. She bought things, even things she didn't mean to buy, like a bejeweled demin jacket which Julia and I doted over in amusement. She was a great caftsperson who would sew her daughters' ensembles. She made fabulous halloween costumes that I was endlessly jealous of. She had an eye for the homoerotic yet was outwardly prudish. She was an excellent and dedicated teacher. She wore makeup that was brown in tone. She had pop-tarts in her pantry one time. She loved to swim. She mowed the lawn after cancer treatments. She was relentless.
I remember many stories about her.

I remember her towing me a Julia across the waters of Heart's Desire beach while we lay on a flotation device. We were wholly relaxed, yet perplexed as she dredged us through jelly-fish infested waters, receiving many stings. She once took us to the Hearst Castle. We stayed at a motel by the water. Before bed we watched a program about tsunamis. I fell asleep listening to Susan's breathing and the crashes of the waves, fearful that the gentle laps against the shore could at any moment transform into a gaping mouth, and throw us into the stomach of the ocean.

Susan never believed that Julia and I were being naughty. Even when we were stealing chocolates from the grocery store by shoving them down our shirts, or when we won scrabble by cheating with an extra bag of letters hidden in our laps. 

Susan would surprise you with were stories from the past. She would conclude these stories with a shrug and a sigh, as if to let you know that it was youth and naivete that brought them about. She would let you know that Art Garfunkle had asked her for rolling papers (after which she had to explain the significance of rolling papers to me), that she had been threatened by Bob Marley's posse when traveling in Jamaica, that she was visiting by the traveling Noel Cowards' ghost, that she had hitch hiked across Europe, earning money by dancing in the street accompanied by a friend on the flute (while in Ireland, she had passed out one evening on a friendly enough looking lawn, only to be awoken by a kindly old lady. Seeing that she had guests, the lady immediately took to milking her goat to offer to the young travelers. Being polite, Susan and her friend did the best they could to drink the warm goats milk, but could not bring herself to do it. Once the lady had turned her back, Susan forced her friend to drink it).

Susan was a dancer.

These are some things I remember about Susan which immortalize her in my mind.