It's been twelve years and I still miss her. I might even miss her more.
I miss her apple pie.
And her fashion sense.
(She wasn't afraid to get dirty and she had plenty of work clothes, but oh could she dress up.)
I miss the warmth of her hand -- hands that worked hard and showed it, yet still had a softness -- and the way she'd squeeze my fingers.
I miss her smile.
And her soprano singing voice, hitting every high note in "How Great Thou Art."
I miss her ridiculous "threats" when we'd get on her last nerve and she'd toss us out into the yard to get us out of her hair.
I miss the way she called me her Sweet Bug.
And that she'd never hang up the phone without telling me she loved me.
I miss long chats and her Sunday dinners and that she always had room for me in her home.
I will never not miss her. But I am grateful I was born into her family. That I had the gift of so much time growing up in her house. That I have a wealth of memories and photos to warm my heart. What a blessing she was to this world.
0 comments:
Post a Comment