I missed having the ability to watch my problems evaporate when your easy laugh wafted through the room.
I missed the way that you would hold my hand in the middle of the night because I was afraid, Lord knows I wish you were here to hold my hand now, because my problems and fears have only gotten bigger and scarier as I cross this path into adulthood.
I missed the way you would have told me you were proud of me and hugged me as I got my first college diploma.
I missed you sitting in your favorite chair turning around and smiling at me as I came to visit your house.
I felt you today.
I felt you today as the warm sun shined down through the trees on the path I was hiking. In the way the daisy’s lined my trail just like the ones we would pick together when I was small.
I felt you today as I drove down sun drenched country roads as the wind whipped through my hair.
I felt you today as I sat by the campfire on a chilly spring night and stared up at the stars that you taught me the names of.
“Lost love is still love. It takes a different form, that’s all. You can’t see their smile or bring them food or tousle their hair or move them around a dance floor. But when those sense weaken, another heightens. Memory. Memory becomes your partner. You nurture it. You hold it. You dance with it. Life has to end. “Love doesn’t.” ― Mitch Albom,
Its amazing what you can miss when you sleep in on a rainy Saturday. Apparently, from what I saw last weekend, there is an abundance of life and thriving activity in the community well before noon on this sleepy day. See, I myself and my fiance are college students so, as soon as we get the chance we sleep in well past breakfast. But, with a mix between interest in checking out the farmers market nearby, and the need to breath in outside air after this horrid and bone chilling winter, I set my alarm for 10 am. Of course when my phone began loudly chiming with an electronic sound that sliced through my sleepy dreams, I walked through the deep haze of Saturday mornings toward the loud, buzzing annoyance. Though the rain tapping on the window created a perfect drumbeat almost chanting for me to get back into the comfort of my bed, I was determined. I slipped on my favorite sweater dress, wrapped my hair up in a head scarf and headed for the strange, outside world known as Saturday mornings. With the soft showers and the calmness of a gray sky I was not expecting to see much activity when I was driving toward the market. But, to my amazement there were people, and they were everywhere. I saw people outside gardening, people landscaping churches and community gardens. I saw a group of men in dark trench coats and hats painting over the artwork left on the side of a robin red building. I saw kids and adults and seniors buying fresh produce and supporting local business. Though the rain fell, I saw hundreds of people bettering my community. I saw people shopping at local markets and raising money for charity. I saw old couples holding hands and people selling homemade honey soap and police officers directing traffic. I saw people walking with destinations and kids asking their parents why its important to buy organic. All on a rainy Saturday morning. I suppose why this was so fascinating and mind blowing was because, as most people do time to time I thought the world revolved around me. If I took part in the late afternoon sleeping on Saturdays, then the rest of the world must as well. If I fell victim to the hypnotic chanting of rain on my window, then everyone else must have too, right? It is amazing what you miss when you sleep in on a rainy Saturday. You see people bettering the community, supporting local businesses, and children learning how to lead a healthy lifestyle. I suggest that, you venture out one Saturday morning and see what your city has in store. The atmosphere just very well may inspire you like it did me. Because, its amazing what you miss when you sleep in on a rainy Saturday.