I got up this morning and made cupcakes. I heard Mom's voice in my head last night as I was falling asleep, "You can get up a little earlier and make them." I just made white frosting so now Maddy and her gal pals can make them any color they want. They'll be home from the football game any minute so I'd better finish this before the chaos returns.
It still hits me, that sinking feeling that catches in my throat and punches its way down into my gut. Mom is gone. It scares me when that happens b/c not only does the reality return, but I worry that the feeling comes upon me so suddenly b/c I haven't thought about her enough today. And tonight while walking Kea through the leaves I thought about the song Mom used to teach her Sunday school kids at this time of the year. "Brown leaves crunching when we talk. Air that is frosty when we talk." If I'm really quiet in these moments before the teenage topsy-turviness, I can almost hear her singing it.
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