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Vibrations of You

The strings of your sweater fall between my fingers.  My nose moves furiously from spot to spot- hoping to get a tiny scent of you.  My heart sinks.  It's been too long.  For five months, the sweater has been hanging with all my clothes.  So now it smells like me.  Damn it.

Why didn't I box it up air-tight?  Why didn't I put it in a shrink-wrapped case so it could forever be embedded with you?

Just one little scent and I'd be there: in your house in my nightgown, feeling so, so safe.

Just one little scent and I'd be there: grown and carrying my baby upstairs. Knowing you'd laugh out loud with joy at his face and look adoringly into mine.

Just one little scent and we'd be there: adventuring together.  I'd pack the car; you'd pack the snacks.  I'd pack the kids; you'd pack the kisses.

When I think of what it feels like to be mothered, I only have to think of you.

You gave me confidence when I was shaky.  You loved my kids as yours.  Warmth and laughter followed you everywhere.  Your body felt soft and reassuring.  You gave away time knowing you'd never get it back.  You said YES every chance you could.  You mothered me into a mother.  You always remembered to love.

The strings of your sweater fall between my fingers.  And with them, vibrations of you.

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