Die

I like the book I'm reading. Instead of talking about writing, which I enjoy, it/she expects me to write. I have always censored myself. I think that's good, but she suggests that I write all the hidden stuff. And hide it. Not there yet.
Anyway, one chapter is called Die. I'm supposed to write what I'll miss when I die. Now I don't believe I'll miss things, but it is interesting. So...

I'll miss the faces of each child of mine. Their smiles, eyes, the way they look at me. The recognition. The way you look at your mother.

I'll miss the smell of Tracy at any given point of a day. At 4am, noon, or dusk. I would miss his warmth and the way his hugs encompass me. And giving him his pedicures. And everything about him. When he gives me attention that I don't expect (which is all the time).

I will miss the surprise that I feel when someone cares for me. When people (like the ones I work with) ask me about my life and are concerned. And then they remember. It blows me away.

I will miss Honey's drawings and common sense, Evan's big spirit, Bradley's brilliant wit, Andrew's heart and music, Isabelle's laugh and unsolicited affection..

I will miss the sky in October. College football and going nuts over just a game. And Bradley's commentary.

I will miss having as many people over to my house as I possibly can and creating a spectacle. Music, food, kids running around, all of it. I miss that now.

I will miss the way I feel in the moments that I believe God is showing me that He is with me. It happens in small and big ways. Through people. Usually when I'm at the bottom.

I will miss my mom. She's steadfast.

And strawberries.