Dear Norma,

You've always been especially supportive of my writing, so I've been meaning to write about you for quite a while now. I've been held back by my inability to string together words worthy of your attention. I've never told you, but yours is the approval I crave most. To be considered talented by the great Norma is probably among the best honors known to humanity. As the years go on, the thought occurs to me that I should tell you how much I admire you before time runs out. Surely you know how great you are, but it can't hurt to have somebody remind you, right?

My favorite thing about you is how effortlessly eloquent you are when you speak. I'm among few who get to hear your deepest thoughts— let me tell you, you never disappoint. Whether you amuse me into belly aching laughter or stun me into silence with some profound observation about life, you are an absolute joy to be around. There is nobody I would so willingly listen to for hours, probably because nobody's life is nearly as interesting as yours.

Do you remember when Mom and I spent the night with you? We listened to way too many songs that night. You even listened to "Two Ghosts" by Harry Styles and swore you'd heard the song before. You asked Mom to play that song "The Bluebird Of Happiness" about five times. And somehow you still remembered every word by heart, even though you said it had been a while since you'd remembered to listen to it.

Do you remember when you told me that everyone wore a wig in the Jackie Kennedy days? Or when you told me about your World War 2 experiences, like that time you flew in one of those airplanes with your pilot friend? Or when you told me about the many (many) hearts you broke as a young woman? Or when you and I went head to head during Jeopardy? Or when you were kind enough to offer to lend me your most precious UGGs?

Because I do. I always will. I will always think of you as the feistiest woman with searing wit and irresistible charm. I'll remember how you smiled when I asked if I could call you Norma instead of 'grandmother' because I hadn't ever known anyone called Norma before; you said you'd prefer it if everyone would call you Norma. You're like something out of a book, Norma— the really good kind of book that I'd read over and over again. Just imagine how great it would be if I could manage to grow into a spirit reminiscent of yours.

I'll try to be like you, holding my head up high, until I find a bluebird of happiness.