The first time I remember tasting New York tap water was when I was staying at my Aunt's gorgeous house upstate. Noticing the consistency of the liquid in my cup I told her that I didn't want milk. She looked at me, laughed, and told me to drink my water.

A few years after that, she came to Phoenix. She was thinner, divorced and had a kick ass leather jacket. I idolized her. She was this cool force - successful, talented, funny. She was an electric breeze that came into my life.

Since we didn't live in the same state, we didn't see each other much. But I thought about her. Bragged that I had a cool aunt to my friends. Heard stories from my parents about what she was up to, where she was living.

The times we did share were in Phoenix, in New York. Shopping trips in Manhattan. Me asking her questions in the guest room in Phoenix. Standing outside Mamma's house in the Bronx. Now these times are in Virginia, sitting around the table at holidays hearing the banter between she and my dad about thier shared childhood as they retold, relived their memories on E. 191st Street.

I don't really idolize her anymore - idolotry to me sounds removed, cold. What I do have for her is warm admiration. I cherish our talks, know that we'll have more giggling moments, more serious conversations, more mimosas.

Happy birthday, Aunt Doretta. Love you.