I can’t seem to quell the feeling.
The missing, the longing, the wishing…
Each time I do a post like this, I seem to always have some sort of secret hope that it will be the last time that I have to write about how much I miss my mother. That at some point or another I will become attuned to the reality, the one without her in the picture. However, this just does not seem to be happening.
It doesn’t get better, it is even worse when you’re in a distant land and alone.
My dreams are back, the one’s of her. She is always so present until I wake up and then she is not.
I miss my mum.
I long for the times and the memories we will never share. I constantly think about how, in another reality, I would be ringing her weekly, maybe daily, to tell her about my time here.
A quick phone call on my way to school probably explaining how full the tube was and hence the source of my coming cold because you know, contagious diseases, enclosed stuffy spaces, zero degree weather.
Another phone call, on a Sunday afternoon after church, window shopping on Oxford Street, “ What would you like me to get you? My gift to you,” I would say and she, “ Have you seen any nice culottes?” She loved culottes, even before they were thing. She had this green pair, I think its still in her wardrobe. I always thought they were a weird piece of clothing…until now 🙂
I really do miss her.