naps and tears

I have successfully put my entire family down for naps--even the husband.  Actually, the children put Daddy down for a nap--they tucked him in and even read him a story.  Puff the Magic Dragon.  Such a sweet sound.  Then off to naps for them.  I am left to finish rinsing and then putting out to dry the load of nappies.  If I'm fast, I may even be able to sneak in another cup of coffee.  Might be pushing it, but we'll see.

We attended my uncle's 80th birthday party last night, and I had a surprisingly nice time.  For whatever reason, we don't very often get together as a large family so I haven't seen my uncle, his children, and his grand and great grandchildren for years.  The lovely part of the evening was talking to one of my older cousins, who gave me an unexpected memory of my mom.  She cried when she talked about her, and if felt so good to have someone else remember her and miss her.  She told me about all the cakes my mom made and decorated for her, and for just a moment I had a connection to my mom.  For a few seconds I could hear her laugh and remember the feel of her arms around me.  I don't have a lot of those memories.  I wish I did.  I miss her.  It will be twenty-six years this November 6th.  How have I survived without her?  How did I have a wedding day or birth two children without her encouragement?  How do I breathe?

Most of the time I think I'm fine, but the days that I think about her are bittersweet.  I long for just one more hug, one more touch, one more "I love you."  So I pour my longing into my kids--I give them what I long for.  I need a hug, I give one.  I need a touch, I caress their faces.  I need to hear "I love you," I tell them.  And I thank God in his wisdom for choosing the perfect children to chase away my tears.