The night she left...

The night she left us, me and Dad, she had just turned one...this was 18 years ago.

That night, she was still in diapers, barely walking.

That night, I came home and smelled her closet and cried.

Mom said, she had gone by the windows in the airport in Italy and waived at the cars calling Dad..."Abby bia..." she would say.

Where does time go? Is time just part of our imagination?