I Do

I do miss her. 

I do.

I didn’t.

At all.

And then one morning, I did. 

Piercingly.

Achingly.

In the marrow of my bones like flu

She’s so lovely.

Within and without

And very far away

I can’t be there in hours

I can count on my fingers.

She’s loving them right now.

Surely they love her too.

You’re welcome, God.

‘Cause we gave her back to you.

Like Hannah did Samuel

With his little robes that got bigger each year.

She’s like Samuel, you know.

Loves you.  Lives for you.

Follows you wherever.

My heart is not like yours, God.

It’s finite.  It’s flesh.

You always see her.

I can’t wait to.

I’ll attach myself to her

Like white cat hair on a black sweater

I’ll twist a curl ‘round my pointer finger.

Tuck her in bed.  Here.

Listen to her laugh.

Take in the tales of the life she lived

Among the golden children with glossy, no moon night hair

I’ll give her chocolate and snacks

Fix all her favorite foods—sausage and biscuits, turkey and stuffing, Chinese chicken salad.

Close my eyes and sing along as she plays, “Ode to Joy” on her flute.

I’ll tell her she is wonderful.

Over and over.

And that I want to be just like her when I grow up.

I do.