|Lounging in the hammock|
I remember exactly what I was doing the day Elizabeth was born. It was June 23, 1995 — my last day of sixth grade. I was 12. We'd heard the baby, Sarah's little sis, was going to be arriving soon and, finally, I got the news when I was walking up to my friend's house after swimming in Lake Washington. To say I was excited is an understatement. Another little girl for my mom to watch; another 'little sister' for me and my siblings. We already thought Sarah was amazing (and useful for fetching glasses of water and other items from around the house) and now there'd be two of them coming over every day.
I gave Liz bottles, rocked her and watched her roll over on a blanket outside. She was the most adorable baby — always calm, cool and collected. She didn't even squirm when you were changing her, something I wish I could say of my own two children! She grew into the cuddliest toddler and we'd spend hours playing out in the backyard, laying on the hammock, or inside having dance parties and filming our own music videos.
Often, my sisters or I would babysit Sarah and Liz if Matt and Sheila wanted to go out. It was a win-win situation. We got to hang out with the sweetest kids (it honestly did not feel like babysitting it was so easy — not something I can say of all the babysitting gigs I had as a teenager) and eat fruit snacks by the boxful out of their pantry.
As most kids do, she radiated positivity. But what stands out about Elizabeth/Liz/Liza/Lizard (we are big fans of nicknames in my fam), is that she carried this positivity throughout her whole life. That is why now, I can only be thankful for the time I had knowing her.
Genuine, kind, sweet and loving, Liza was a true treasure.
|An original 'hold-out,' pre-selfie stick|
|Seaside! Looks like Liz is bringing back lunch|
|Francie and I with Liza, about 1999|