Missing Mom

Gentle Reader, my puppy got into mischief today, and after bathing her outside, I was torn between laughing and being very angry.  Laughing because she looked so forlorn, and angry because she had gotten so very dirty.  But I was also worried about her, because it’s a bit chilly outside, and the water in the hose was freezing.

Strangely, because of this, I began to miss my mom.

It’s been days coming.  It’s approaching the 2 year mark of her death, and on May 4th, I will once again attempt to distance myself from the world and not think about anything.  Last year, I did things for me: a facial and a massage.  This year, I may do similar.  A day at the salon might make it better.

But I missed her because I could hear her voice as I told her the story of Moxie’s mishaps.  I could hear her say “Oh, Lord!” in that way only she could.  I thought of the advice she’d give me, unnecessary, too-late advice, but advice nonetheless, and I would get annoyed with her that she wasn’t listening to me.

All of that, I miss.

She’s gone and I never get to tell her a story again.


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