Missing Them

It’s quiet, so very quiet.
Am I walking in circles?
Wandering around my own house like a stranger?
What did I have to do again?

I find myself in the doorway,
A lonely ache floods that empty spot in my soul.
This colorful room with equally colorful memories,
Colors now gloss over, blurring.

I should go back to what I was doing…
What was I doing again?

Instead, I step in,
Greeted by our old friend, bookcase, filled to the top with favorites.
I slide my hand over a cover, Narnia,
Close my eyes and inhale the printed pages.

Turning, I leap onto the bed,
Snuggling tight with Mickey, Boo and a host of Uglydolls.

Oh the memories…
With Tara and Tori, tears flowing over Little Ann and Old Dan,
Holding our collective breath as Frodo walks into Mordor,
Amanda goodnight-ing the moon, her room.

I squeeze the dolls tight.
They become my little girls.
Where did the time go?
I rest in this place a little longer.

I miss their childhood, I miss their presence.
It’s time for me to grow up;
They did.
It seems I worked myself out of a job.

Although I cannot squeeze them or read to them,
We still talk and dream together,
While the prayers never cease for them.
Mom-ing never stops.

But “Mom” never was my job description.
Daughter is.

So Abba, Daddy, thanks.
You always love me,
Sharing Your stories with me.
We make new stories, play and dream together.sillygirls

My daughters are really your daughters,
New stories to tell, new dreams to dream.

My hand brushes across my eyes.
Slowly I rise…
What did I have to do again?
Oh yeah, laundry.


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