Its hard not to miss you, when I am watching the boys tumble around the house all day. The little squeaks of protests when someone steals a toy. The cheeky giggle over a nonverbal secret they already share. They are playing games and laughing the way we used to.
Yesterday while cuddling in bed together, a feeling of peacefulness settled over the nursery and Cubby drifted off to sleep next to the Bear. For a few minutes the room filled with a sweet tenderness and the chaotic giggles were shelved for a small half hour. The Bear reached out and grabbed Cubby's little fist in his own and began tugging at his arm while he spoke in a little sing song voice. Then he reached over to trace Cubby's long lashes with the tip of his finger.
I remember walking over to your bed once, a long time ago. You were sleeping under a quilt of pink and white checkers, the whole soft mound of you moving up and down with every breath you took. I reached out for one of your long brown braids, held it in my hand like an artist's brush and traced the line of your face. Your eyes began to flutter when the wisps of hair tickled your nose. I wanted you to wake up so badly. I needed to tell you a secret, but somehow changed my mind in that late afternoon hour, while tracing your face with part of your braid. Memorizing your face in that moment was suddenly more important than any secret in the world. You woke up and gave me your crooked smile, and when I closed my eyes that night I could see your face as it was that very afternoon.
I am grateful that they have each other in the same way that we had each other.
So many things have changed in recent years, our childhood coming to the unexpected end we had been moving towards all our lives, the creation of new family units and the strange fact that we no longer share our days. I love my husband and children with a bone deep ache that fills every corner of my being. But you and I are of a different love. We are of the same ingredients and the same bones, the same secrets and the same daydreams, the same nursery rhymes and the same skipping ropes. We are the same snowball fight and the same echo of laughter after the crash of an ocean wave. The daisy chain, the ice cream sandwich, the dress up heels, the monopoly token, the wet bathing suit, the chocolate pudding cup and the missing puzzle piece, yes, we are all these things too. Is it any wonder that I miss you?
I spent my life learning things beside you. We learned that whip cream tastes better mashed between chocolate chip cookies. Swiss Family Robinson is a better movie when you watch it in your pajamas. Cancer can take away someone we love. If we hide the cookies underneath out mattresses, mom will never find them before we go to bed at night. Boys are horrible. When Daddy swims far out into the ocean and tells us he is never coming back, he is really only kidding, but we need to cry and go after him anyway so that he will give us our favorite smile when we catch him.
Suddenly I find myself learning more than ever and you aren't here next to me. Did you know that pregnancy stretch marks last forever? You won't cook as good as Abuela just because you got married? Having kids changes your life? Comfort tea and creative space goes a long way?Being far away from you really sucks?
After the boys got out of their cuddle tumble we went into the family room for play time. I walked away from the nursery knowing that these two boys would grow up to be friends and I felt such joy. Then I was seized by a sudden urge to find something. You know the feeling. When you suddenly think, "what was I looking for? I can't remember but I know its important." I looked in the cabinets, the closet, the basket of craft string. I peeked in the bowl of avocados and under the bathroom sink. I had no idea what I was looking for, until I passed by your picture on my way to the nursery. You were smiling at me in that self conscious way of yours. The same smile you gave me that afternoon long ago. Without knowing it, I was frantically looking for you. It made me realize that whenever I learn something new about my world, my children or myself; you are still the person I look for to share the news with.
I miss you. You weren't in the cabinet, the basket of craft string or in the bowl of avocados. It made me a bit mad. You are far away. And some small immature part of me is stamping my feet, pouting my lips, and asking in a whiny voice if we can watch Faerie Tale Theatre's Dancing Princesses together. Or at the very least, get lost in a golden afternoon of dandelions and play clothes as two small tumbleweeds of six and eight years old.
Come home soon.
1 comment:
beautiful
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