Live Love Laugh

I read a story to the kids tonight called ," I miss you, Stinkyface." I love those books. But as I was reading about how the boys mama would catch a cheetah to race her home to him my voice cracked. I was missing my mom. Now, my mom is perfectly fine (save the cough she can't shake) and sitting in her house in Charleston. But I was missing more specifically the past mom and childhood. I can't consciously remember my mother reading to me, but I know she read hundreds of stories. I miss spending every Saturday night at my granma's house. I am already missing my children as they grow and need me less. I want the freedom, I crave it don't get me wrong. But I think we all know that when we are little we really want to be big and when we get big we miss being little. I miss not realizing there were bad things in the world. I miss never thinking my most loved could some day leave this world. I want to believe that we can live forever in good health and spirits again. But being grown up and knowing otherwise, I will read Stinkyface books, smell my kids hair, look at them when they sleep, call my mom and granma more, and try to appreciate every good thing as long as I can.

But if Peter Pan could bring me some of that magic dust, I'd be on the fast train to Neverland!


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