Missing

Taking a quick emotional temperature this afternoon, I wondered, why this unease? Then it dawned on me: tonight Annie leaves. Shining, beautiful Annie. My baby. And she left with hugs and tears in her eyes and I held my own at bay until I closed the door.

So many mothering moments are forgotten, and yet others are so clear and present. I go to youtube and watch Billy Joel singing In the Middle of the Night -- the River of Dreams, and suddenly before me I see Maren and Annie dancing. Annie is a little wisp of a girl with curly blonde hair and a tentative smile upward to big sister -- Am I doing this right? She follows Maren precisely and even gets her torso to bend and her hands to move in just the same way. I am amazed. I see them both so clearly, yet the moment is nearly twenty years old.

On Monday, Maren and I were driving very near to Stirling Drive. I suggest we drive by Matt's and Jess's old house, for old times sake. No, Maren says, it will make me cry. So we don't go, but Maren cries anyway. Missing hurts. I don't like goodbyes.

I'm better at hellos.