"I hope you have a nice life in heaven"

I see my mom everywhere in London. It's weird. I have dreams of her a lot. But I also see her when I'm awake, For whatever reason, I also seem to see her while sitting in a cafe or restaurant. I see her walking down the street, and I crane my neck to follow her as she laughs and walks and peeks back at me. But she's my mom when she was in her 20s. Her hair is long and straight. Her teeth are still a little crooked. She's wearing blue eye shadow and a trench coat with a plaid scarf. She's beautiful.

We went for afternoon tea today outside Windsor Castle and it was delicious. It dawned on me today that my mom picked up her sandwich making traits from living in England: she loved egg salad and watercress, chopped off the crusts, and always told me to spread tuna salad on bread very thinly.

In addition to the castle, we went to St. George's chapel. Inside, there was an area to write down a loved one to include in a prayer. I wrote down "Tickle" and our dogs. I peeked over Ellie's shoulder and she wrote, "Tickle.. I hope you have a nice life in heaven."