Can you believe the ladybugs are graduating college? Do you remember the day we came home from the hospital with two bundles of chaotic joy? It was my 28th birthday, and you insisted we live with you and dad for 2 months while our house was being remodeled. I tried to fight you on it, but you would have none of it.
Do you remember the heatwave that hit that same week? I was leaking from literally everywhere, while trying to perfect tandem nursing. You would hand me the girls, one at a time ever so delicately, like we were in some kind of Lactation Ballet. Latch two babies onto two boobies onto one very tired mama. Eventually, we stripped the girls down to their diapers, laying them on a blanket in front of the fan. I, too, wanted to get naked and lay in front of the fan, but did not. The next year you and dad splurged on central A/C. Well played, Mom.
Did you know that Emma is preparing to transfer to college as a Junior, place TBD? Either that or take a full time job. I mean, options, right? Do you remember how I had to wear her on my body in a carrier for the duration of half a year because I was afraid the twins who were just barely two, would quite literally Hug. Her. To. Death? Remember how dad used to call her Spike because her hair was so fine and wispy? And how much she loved to be with you, mom? She is going to be 20 soon, and is preparing to launch.
Do you remember 3 kids in, how when Tom and I went to see Les Miserables in the city, I swore up and down that if we ever had another girl, we would name her Cosette Francois? And a year later, Cozy entered our family, our little french bean. I don’t remember a lot after this mom. Do you?
Mom, can you believe Charlotte is in her last year at Booksin? I made it Mom. I made it. 1,008 Walk A Thons later, it is done. She is salty and spectacular and artistic and moody. When I am not afraid of her, we’re good friends. She is introverted and a deep thinker like you, mom. She was only 2 when you went Home, and I quite think you and Charlie would be two peas in a pod.
Mom, did you know that it's like you’re currently renting an apartment inside of my head and heart space with a speaker button allowing you access to my very being. That when I am faced with decision making, it is often your voice that comes through like a voiceover from an audible book ? The volume is pleasantly turned to low/medium. Loud enough to hear clearly, but soft enough to remind me you haven’t really gone anywhere.
But it’s a two way speaker this time, mom. So here is me pressing the button: I love you. I sure do miss you.
Ever so gently like a whisper, "I love you too, honey."