Every time I pull into our driveway and see her car, I think “oh good, she’s home”…but no, she’s not.
Every time I walk past her room I do a double take and wonder why it’s so neat in there…and then I remember.
I miss her enthusiastic chatter, especially about topics she’s passionate about.
I miss hearing her laugh as she talks to her friends on the phone or on Skype. She has a great laugh.
I miss hearing her play her ukulele and sing while she hides in her closet. She thinks I can’t hear her but I can.
I miss trying to keep her calendar straight.
I miss waiting up for her when she’s out at night.
I miss the dirty dishes she leaves in the sink.
I miss walking into her room late at night and finding her crying over some beautiful thing she just watched or listened to or read.
I miss the way she leaves her clean, folded laundry a mess.
I miss shopping for the food she likes.
I miss her TELLING ME to stop telling her what to do.
I miss seeing her and Boy together.
I miss her tender heart, optimism, quiet strength and wisdom.
I miss her senior year of high school roller coaster, kind of.
I do not miss riding her ass about her school work or her college visits and apps or that blasted Edline.
And getting text messages like this makes it all SO MUCH easier:
I’m happier and more excited for her with each passing day…and I miss her. We’re going up to Boston soon for parents weekend and we text and talk on the phone and Skype and she’ll be back, I know…and I miss her.