Jessica Bauer

My Aunt Michele and I share many great memories, yet one sticks out. To set the scene, I am 6 years old, about to have a sleepover at her house. I had waited all day for this. I was so excited to play with her dog, go on a walk, and most importantly, watch TV. After a long car ride to her house, I step inside. The feelings of excitement are elevate I give her a huge hug and sit in the living room. She tells me Kraft Mac and Cheese is on the stove and is about to be ready. My Aunt Michele knows me so well. Once it's done, we eat that, then go for a walk. Once we get home, we enjoy some quality time together, play some games, and catch up. After an hour or two, I pop the big question, “Can we go to bed?” Only because my Aunt Michele's room had something mine didn't, a TV. She thought this was the funniest thing. We put on the show Mike and Molly, but it didn't matter what I was watching, only that I was watching it in bed.