Dear Mom

Today is one of those calendar days where it's hard not to think of you. You come to mind on so many other days as well, but today, the day you had to leave, is one of the hardest every year.

You've come to mind often, the past few days and weeks. I'm changing to a new classroom this year and I'm scared to death. I know you'd say just the thing I need to hear. I know you'd laugh about first graders and tell me entertaining stories of the three of us when we were that age. You'd help me with sewing and creating all the little things I need that are bogging me down from focusing on the new curriculum, the new assessments, the new lesson plans. I know you'd be here, supporting, encouraging and laughing. I could really use it about now.

Did you see us playing Canasta? The last time I played that game I am sure we were partners. How long has it been since we played? 25 years? I played this time with two boys I love and realized you've never met either of them. That very thought just makes my heart heavy sometimes. You would have been so proud of Dad and the prank he played on your grandson! You would have been right in the thick of it, too. You'd have pulled several of your own, I'm sure.
I am certain, every time I am in Tennessee that you are in Heaven laughing. It's hard to believe, isn't it, that this family of ours actually boats?! I never thought I would thank you for the years of shivering swimming lessons at the City Park Pool, but they sure have come in handy. Dad even got in the water this time. It may be well over 25 years since I've seen that happen.

I was travelling again on my birthday this year. Seems appropriate after all the times we did it when I was young. I didn't much like turning 40, though, thinking of how few years you had after your 40th. And I can't help but think of how much you would have loved retirement. Travelling, visiting friends often, having the grandchildren come and stay.

It's been a long time since I heard your laugh or saw your smile or that mischievious twinkle in your eye. I miss your hugs. I miss how you would exclaim, "Eliza is home!" when I walked in the door. While I don't want to rush things down here, I sure can't wait to hear you say those words to me one more time.

I love you, Mom.

Eliza Jane

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