Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since I’ve been his favorite Catherine. Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since he’s been my favorite Poppi. It’s something he has always said to me. My grandma’s name is Catherine too, but he thinks it’s funny to say that I am. That’s something I will never forget. I will also never forget the paper airplanes she would throw off the balcony with him. I will never forget that little girl whose face lit up when she saw her Poppi. I will never forget that silver and pink tiara which she would wear constantly. I will never forget his warm pancakes, hot chocolate, and bacon which would fill that girl up for the entire day. Never will I forget his stories during Sunday dinners that captivated everyone in the room. Never will my love for Poppi go away. 

When he comes over for Sunday dinners, his smile makes everyone else smile. Always wearing that blue Phillies shirt, white Temple lacrosse shirt, or one of his many Hawaiian shirts. He drops off cookies at my house and comes to my lacrosse games. I can’t help but be happy. When he walks onto my back porch carrying some food that we all already know will be some of the best we ever had.

When I am older I will never forget him coming to my games, coming to my house, or sunday dinners. Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since I have met my favorite Poppi. Five thousand, two hundred, and eighteen days since my love for Poppi started.