Things I Miss

There are things I miss when I’m focused elsewhere but the beautiful perfect present–distracted by the fierce competition of to-do lists, thoughts and the technology I keep forever close to my fingertips.

I miss the details of my living room, the marble framing the fireplace, the blue chesterfield armchairs from my childhood, the columns that have showed up in five homes where I’ve lived and loved.

I miss the breadth of my child’s smile and the depth of her questions. I miss the wonder in my baby’s ever shifting gaze and the cadence of her babble.

I miss the whoosh of the cars on my city street and the sunshine soaking my garden. I miss sitting on my chaise lounge and tilting my face towards the great expanse.

I miss words that might come if I faced the blank screen more often, letting the discomfort scrape away the roughage to make room for something I can never know without trying.

I miss eye contact with my husband and playing with my children and ideas that only grace a spacious uncluttered mind.

I miss reading books and seeing strangers, really seeing them. I miss eavesdropping and people watching. I miss conversations with people whose name I’ve yet to learn. I miss meeting people. I miss knowing them in the flesh.

I miss the dreams I don’t write down and the phases of the moon and the guideposts planted carefully by serendipity.

I miss teaching moments and learning moments. I miss the direction of the wind and the full body of my coffee and the sweetness of a crisp cold apple.

I miss the fullness in my belly after a good meal. I miss the tension in my shoulders and the strength in my legs. I miss the brightness in our eyes and the softness of their skin and the shape of their cheeks pressed against me.

I miss the smell of leather and the silhouette of a beautiful boot. I miss unexpected art exhibits. I miss the chance to help people with a smile.

I miss loneliness etched in faces. I miss the moment when someone opens their mouth to speak to me, then stops. I miss imagining an entire lifetime from the three words an old man says to his companion on the bus.

I miss questions. I miss answers. I miss jokes. I miss chances for laughter. I miss knowing them better. I miss understanding.

I miss looking up.






To read more of my thoughts on motherhood, mindfulness and the creative life, please follow my blog or subscribe via feedburner.

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