A thousand miles away

Here in the crisp dark cold early Monday morning, the week stretches out before me infinitely. It feels like it will be a thousand years before I see you again. A thousand years and a thousands disappointments, before you climb into my lap and wrap your arms around me again, whispering Mama. My heart is aching seven ways this morning and I haven’t even left yet.

Life moves on. It marches in a way that feels unexplainable. Every time I am there I am not here. I don’t want to be anywhere else. All around me people are going about their lives. They are cleaning and working and lifting and doing. I am watching, from 10,000 feet up–maybe even 30,000–wanting to be there with you. I want to help you move that couch. I want to help you decorate that tree. I want to help you do that grocery shopping. I want to help you write that essay, cook that meal, fix that car, do that homework, sing that song, plan that trip.

I miss you.