At 7:50p.m. this evening I walked past my daughter's room and tried to shut off the light. She wasn't there and the light wasn't on. Just the echo of the late summer sunshine illuminating a now empty space. The cat waits in vain for her return and the papers, long forgotten, rustle on her desk.
To say I miss my girl is like saying it's hard to breathe under water.
At 7:51p.m. I'm sitting on my back porch with my son, enjoying the light as it filters through the trees illuminating the May Pole I made with my children in Spring and haven't had the heart to fully Autumnize yet. He isn't listening to me, he's got headphones on as he lifts weights to: EYE OF THE TIGER and envisions himself as Sly Stallone. If I were imagining a stud I wanted to emulate, it'd be Jason Statham, but I get the Rocky thing.
8:06 p.m. I'm trying hard not to cry. I'm looking at baby photos. I'm re-living everything I did right and the more than I'm comfortable with list of things I've done wrong, wondering, exactly, how does one summarize a few short years of parenthood where you hope to heck you got it right, and you're scared to death, and you just want to hold them close. My God. My Goddess. My Infinite Consciousness, how do I do this job of parenting well?
I love my deck. I smell the roses. I enjoy the birds. I miss my girl. I enjoy my son. I live, I love, I slay...(my kids will get this)...therefore I AM.
And I miss my girl.
All thoughts on Love and Loss and Change Welcome.
