Yes, there really is an app for that
I slept in (til 5:45).
So I don’t have time to write the million things that I want to write this morning.
So I can’t really tell you how much I’ve missed this child. How viscerally, well … wrong it’s felt to be without her (yet how rationally I’ve known how right it is that she had this time to strike out on her own).
I don’t have time to tell you how I literally feel like I’m missing a piece of myself.
I can’t tell you how her absence has made my mind go places that I really, really don’t want it to go – to college, to moving out to Oh my God someday I’m not going to be around anymore to have I taught her what she needs to know to will she hear her Mama’s voice in her head when she needs to?
Will I be there, even when I’m not there, to help her reason through the tough decisions? The should I kiss him to the should I get into this car with a friend who maybe shouldn’t be driving to the should I smoke this joint to the is a tattoo really a good idea?
I can’t tell you how I then thought about her sister – My God what about her sister? Will there be college, moving out, making those decisions? How will that work? Is my voice in HER head? Can it possibly be? What about the tough decisions she’ll have to make? How will …
I don’t have time to tell you all that.
I don’t even have time to tell you how much Brooke has missed her. How she climbed up into Katie’s bed the other night and buried herself in her covers. How she’s declared again and again that ‘We miss our Katie.”
And Luau. How he’s ever so quietly sent her a picture of something around the house EVERY SINGLE DAY that she’s been gone.
I just don’t have the time to really tell you.
So instead I’ll tell you this.
I tried to convince Luau that we should drive up tonight and get a room at a hotel near the camp. It would be easier, I reasoned, than getting us all up and out the door at 5:45 tomorrow morning. He humored me – he found a hotel just fifteen minutes away. And then he asked a question.
“Babe? Let me ask you something. Do you really think it’s a good idea for us to drive up there and for you to be fifteen minutes away from her for, oh, say ten hours that you still can’t see her?”
I paused. I probably did that nose scrunching thing that Katie has taken from me and perfected.
“I’m just sayin’, babe,” he went on, “I kinda envision me waking up in the morning and saying, ‘Brooke, have you seen Mama? Did she tell you where she was going when she snuck out in the middle of the night?'”
I had to agree. It wasn’t the best plan.
I get my heart back.
And I can’t wait.
A picture sent to us by the camp