Mom, I wish you were here. If you were, we'd already have eaten breakfast and you would have joined us for a game of pirates on the living room floor. I built a formidable fort of legos. Henry pretended the Jack Sparrow action figure was a Philistine soldier (the scripture stories are sinking in!)
Here's how the rest of the day would go:
I would show you my finds from the consignment sale yesterday. I would brag about how I didn't pay more than $3 for any item. You would tell me I don't need to broadcast the price of my purchases. Yes, I would say, but don't you just love a bargain? Yes, you would say, almost smiling.
I would tell you that I think the polka dot dress is my favorite. But, ooh! is the "Parisian Romper" vying for first place! It's kind of refreshing to dress a little girl in light blue. A much needed break from all the pink, I would observe. You would agree. Then we would agree that the striped cozies are the yummiest li'l things we've seen and we would plan to dress Lily in them at bedtime this evening.
I would also brag to you about how I bought butter for $.99 at Tom Thumb yesterday. And got a free 2 liter of Dr. Pepper with a coupon. You would pretend to care deeply about my groceries, all the while only hoping that the Dr. Pepper is of the caffeine free variety. (It is not, but if you were here, my pantry would be well-stocked with a 12-pack of CF DP. Did you get that code?)
We would spend the afternoon busy in a project because it's too chilly for the park, because you have great taste, and because I'd be a fool not to take advantage of your helping hands. Perhaps we would frame the goodies I ordered from Etsy last week and hang them on Lily's sad, bare walls. Or put together the reading corner for my children that already exists in a corner of my imagination. Maybe you would even split the cost of frames with me? You're generous like that. But that's not why I wish you were here.
I would just love to be near you. I would love to watch my children love you. And watch you love them. I would love to visit with you about your Ancient History class...maybe even help you with your homework. I owe you after all the times you stayed up with me, making posters, typing reports, editing papers. We would take morning walks (assuming you'd brought Halley so she could stay with the kids). We would eat potato chips with our lunch. And drink juice (is it cran-apple you love so much?) And at night we would watch movies, probably the ones you had brought to share with us, your net-flix favorites from the past several months.
We would likely have at least one little disagreement, over something trivial like food-preparation or a manner of doing things. Then we would work it out. And talk for an hour about familial roles and how it's sometimes hard to have two "mothers" in one house. And then we would understand each other (and ourselves) better.
And go on with the bliss of togetherness.
I hope maybe this post made you feel close, Mom. What do you think of the consignment finds?
The Etsy goodies? I wish you were here to see it all in person.
But mostly, I wish you were here to see my children in person. They are more darling and delicious than all the treasures in the ether.
But you already know that.