"I'm sorry, my eyes aren't what they used to be. I saw the sweater, and thought it was her, come back to me. Oh how I wish I could see her one more time. I know I don't have long anymore..."

Her voice trailed off sadly. It almost made me cry too.

* * *

That night I just couldn't sleep. I felt so upset about Grandma. I looked for something to read, but there weren't too many books on Melissa's shelves, other than children's books. But I did find one thing in the closet: she had kept a diary every year since she turned twelve years old. I was curious to find out what she might have had to say about me, and what might have made her think to go to the amazon. But I decided that it might be a good idea to start at the beginning, so I could really understand her. So I took the first one down from the shelf, and turned to the start.

There were blank pages all the way until June the 1st, her birthday. So she must have received this as a birthday present. The first few weeks were full of entries, then it became spotty from there. At first, there were only a few tentative words, or one line, so it was more of a log than a diary. But as time went on, she started to write more and more, until every day there was a full page. She started to talk about her innermost thoughts, her feelings, her desires, her hopes and aspirations.

She was a vivid writer, and I was mesmerized. I read until three in the morning, reaching almost the end of the book. When I finally fell asleep, I dreamed of her, and doing things together, like we did in the old days.

* * *

Whenever I had a spare moment, I took to reading from Melissa's diaries. I moved from her early years when she started to wrestle with the fact that her body was changing, and she was becoming a young woman. She had been a tomboy, hanging out with guys more than the girls. But as her body changed, everything else changed. She hated that she was growing breasts, because they 'got in the way'. But she also hated it that the boys stopped treating her just as one of them, but as a girl. Before, they were unafraid to tackle her playing football (but they were afraid of getting tackled by her!). But now, they treated her like some delicate thing, and it ruined the games for her. What fun was it if they *let* her win?

Even worse than that, was they way they looked at her. Instead of wanting to be with her as a friend and a peer, they wanted to be with her on dates now. She had no desire to have sex yet, but she could tell that the boys were changing, and that's where their minds were. When they were younger, they would talk about everything together. Now, she would show up, and everyone would suddenly become silent.

At her mother's urging, she started to sometimes wear skirts and dresses to fancy events, instead of her usual jeans. She felt like they were forcing her to become weak and frail. She felt so silly and out of place wearing a dress. She hated it that everyone said she was pretty. She sometimes wished that she had been born a boy.

* * *

Every night, the stories of her were told and retold. I had to be careful sometimes when I had read something in her diary that was different than how my uncle and aunt remembered it. I was about to correct them once, then I realized that if I told them, they'd know I was invading her privacy by reading her diaries.

And every night we'd go visit Grandma, who was not doing any better. We prayed, but we knew it was just a matter of time.

* * *

One day I talked with my uncle.

"Listen, you told me how business is bad, and you're losing money. I want to help.

I'd like to give riding lessons. Melissa taught me, and I could teach people in the same way. Perhaps we can make some more money for you"

He liked the idea, but over the next two weeks, there were only two people who signed up for a lesson with me, and only one of them actually showed up. I wasn't helping matters any.

* * *

I read in Melissa's diary how she loved it when I visited, because I didn't treat her like a girl. She had as much fun as I did in those days, and she taught me everything she knew about riding. I was proud to read that she thought I was every bit as good of a rider as her!

But now things were changing for her too. She was feeling lonely, and the friendships she had with the boys and her girlfriends weren't enough for her anymore. She had to admit to herself that she was feeling new desires, and that she was going to have to give in and get a real boyfriend. It saddened her to know this, but it was something out of her control. She needed love, as we all do, and she was feeling sexual urges for the first time too. She had entered a new phase of her life.

Now she gave in, and started to wear makeup. For big events, she even bought a wig with long flowing hair, so she could keep hers shorter as she liked it, but look more feminine for formal events. She started to wear more revealing outfits, and showed off her fully developed body parts. Every boy in town was after her now, and she was the most popular person wherever she went.

* * *

By the time I got through her last diary, I felt like I really knew her, as much as any one person can know another. She was in my dreams every night, and sometimes I dreamed that *I* was the one going through some of the situations that she faced in the diary. I wished I could see her too!

I was up to two lessons a week that I was giving, but things weren't looking up. My uncle was getting gloomy, and he said again that it looked like he was going to have to sell the place. This made us all feel terrible. And then it got even worse.

We got a call from the hospital. The doctor told us that Grandma had made a turn for the worse, and wouldn't last very long.

"She keeps calling for Melissa. If there is *any* way your daughter could come to see her, she could die in peace she says."

Aunt Claire cried. There was a tear in Uncle Jack's eyes. Mine were watering too.

"I have an idea" I said.

They both looked up to me.

"When I wore Melissa's sweater, Grandma thought it was her. What if I wore more of her clothes? And she had that wig. Is that still here?"

"Yes!" said Aunt Claire, lighting up. "We do have that downstairs. Jack, go get the wig. Hank, come with me. We'll get you dressed up in her clothes, put on the wig and some makeup, and Bessy will think its our dear Melissa. You will make the old woman so happy!"

I didn't know if I had done the right thing or now, but I wanted to let Grandma 'see' her one last time. So I went through the embarrassment of putting on a dress. Now I truly understood what Melissa had felt, as Aunt Claire made me pretty. She had me put on Melissa's panties and a bra, which she stuffed with two 'breast forms'. Aunt Claire had breast cancer, so she used forms to give her bust line the proper look. I felt silly wearing a bra with the two bumps protruding from my chest.

Next, I put on pantyhose, dark ones to hide the fact that my legs weren't shaved.

"Melissa didn't like shaving her legs either" said Aunt Claire.

Because of that, she picked out a long dark skirt, that only showed a bit above my ankles. I had never worn one, and felt so strange as I moved and it twirled around me. She picked out a blouse that covered the hair on my arms, and came almost to my wrists. She put rings on my fingers, and then put a necklace on me. She had me spread my fingers as she put a quick coat of nail polish on.

"Don't worry if its uneven, Melissa's was always messy because she did so much. If it looks perfect, it won't look like her".

Next, she did my makeup. She just put on some eyeliner and mascara, followed by lipstick, all in subtle shades because Melissa never used very much. She put only a splash of perfume, then got out the wig.

As I squeezed my foot into a pair of black flats, I looked into the full length mirror, and was stunned. I looked just like her! Between the family nose, and the fact that we had such similar eyes, with the hair, the girly clothes, and the wig, I could have passed for her. Not just with my Grandma's old failing eyes, but to anyone but her closest friend.

I felt stupid carrying a purse, but Aunt Claire said I had to. I had some trouble getting into the car in all this getup, and again I knew just how Melissa had felt as she had been almost forced to start dressing like this. I was going through the same thing she was, and that made me feel even closer to her.

As we drove, they coached me on things she would say, and how she would say them. But from reading so many of her own words, I knew it better than they did at that point. I just had to use a slightly higher than normal voice, perhaps a little more breathy, and I was all set.

* * *

It had been one thing to walk around the house dressed like a girl, but when we got to the hospital, I didn't know if I could go through with it in public.

"You look so much like her!" said Uncle Jack, with a proud grin on his face. "I can't believe it. No, you have to come in. Bessy will be so happy! Just hold her hand and smile."

I walked in with them, hoping nobody would find out. I was doing a great job, and nobody seemed to pay me any extra attention.

We made it to the room, and when Grandma saw me, you wouldn't believe the look on her face. She almost jumped out of the bed. I hugged her, hoping that my wig wouldn't come off, then sat beside her and held her hand.

I asked a few questions, and let Grandma do all the talking. She had so much to tell me!

"My dear, darling Melissa. I want to give you something. This ring belonged to *my* grandmother. When she was about to pass on, she gave it to me. Now my time has come, and I want you to have it."

"Come one, you're going to pull through" I said.

"No dear, this is it. I know it in my bones. I am not long for this world. Please, promise me something."

"Anything" I said. I just wanted to make her happy.

"Put this ring on your finger, and promise me to always wear it. It will bring you luck, happiness, and long life. And when your times comes to leave this world, give it to your daughter's daughter to keep the cycle alive."

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