Life Without Mother

Dear Mom,

Yesterday was spent dropping off and settling in my best (and oldest) friend of twelve years at his college. It was crazy, as we told each other, to think that we have been friends since we were seven–a time before our reality of education was learning not to jump off rock walls because you’ll scrape your knee (well, more like learn where the Neosporin was in the medicine cabinet because we seven year olds have to have our adventures)–and we never thought this far ahead, that “we’d actually make it” (a quote from him) to this point when we get to start our own lives. And yes, there is still the tether to home because dorms aren’t permanent and have to be paid for, but the decisions we make from here on out will greatly define our futures. And that’s also why I’m so thankful God allowed us the five hours in the last few days to talk–more than we ever have before–and become actual friends, not just childhood playmates who play “Horsies” and “Star Wars” and Flashlight tag. Going into this leg of our journey will be wrought with chaos and crossroads galore. It’s nice to know I’ll have a friend only a couple of hours away who knows me and whom I know, even if I’m sorry his family has to experience a greater separation than had been anticipated.
The girls start school on Monday. I get to sleep in. Yay! But really I have to finish getting together the final necessities of college (namely, a minifridge). Two weeks left. Two weeks until I move into my new home of ten weeks. Two weeks until I start my new life as a college student. It’s insane. But I’m so excited! I wish you were here to be excited with me and yet to want me to stay because you’ll miss me singing in the house, and telling you all about the books I’m reading or movies I’ve watched, and cuddling while watching TV, and just discussing my hopes and dreams. I miss that. You were supposed to see me grow up. Make sure I did the right thing. Be there when I needed advice or help.
It’s not fair to the girls either. I had you through high school to bring me the things I forgot. I can’t even count how many times I forgot homework or soccer equipment or something and had you bring it during first period right before class. The girls don’t have someone to do that now. Dad can’t–he’s at work. Grannette probably wouldn’t be able to find it or go upstairs and know which part of the school to go to in order to drop it off without going to the office. (Thanks for always being sneaky and passing it off behind the school!) I obviously won’t be there to do it. They have to remember; no second chances while I got so many!
I hate growing up without you. I know eighteen years is a lot longer than some get, but that doesn’t push down my selfishness in that I want you here sometimes. And right now is one of those times.
Your smile, your eyes, your voice, your hands. My favorite things about you, each one always showing love to anyone and everyone. Your hands though are what I miss most. And I have your hands. I’m not sure if I’ve been cursed or blessed with having to look at your hands everyday of my life–
I’m crying. The tears cannot splash upon this electronic paper and ruin the words I’ve written, and yet they blur my vision and cause me to pause and wonder at myself anyways for having a wonderful day such as today and suddenly succumb to tears. But there is no real rhyme or reason for grief’s timing except that each has their own and apparently mine isn’t over yet. It’s been almost four months. A third of the year gone and life goes on. Goodnight my dearest mother, who lives in the glory of the Light.

Your daughter,
Hannah