Tuesday, December 18, 2018

Nine Years Have Been Here

Today is nine years since you were here. And I didn't cry until an hour ago.  And then the tears that came were like dream tears. Like I was watching myself. The dreams that have come lately have been of made up worlds with people who have died visiting. Your great-grandma was in one not to long ago and a woman I used to work with. Grandpa Joe was even in two. I don't cry in my dreams, I just watch and try to remember. Mostly alone, I like that.
I'll soon be feeling little feet again. The movements now are too small for feeling. I haven't told many.  I want to keep it with us for longer. I want to keep it without the judgements to hurt.  Of course I already believe that you know this Frost. You know who is here, who is growing. You are their guardian. Your little brother says that you are coming back. He talks about you so. He tells others your name. He knows you. He brings dream tears. He answers questions for me. He rings your bells and tells me you have your wings.
We sent up a lantern tonight for your birthday. We watched the light flicker and fade and to me it seemed to say "life finds a way".
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

Monday, December 18, 2017

Eight Years Old

We watched the earth today, easily and plainly.  The day went by and we went with it. I took your little brother for a walk into your woods.  He played as a five year old boy will.  Being a strong helper, moving sticks and rocks from our path.  Checking the depth of the creek, with a toss of a branch.  Calling out to sleeping coyotes.  He loves to howl at the moon, even on nights when she is new.  He is how I imagine you would be.  He calls you his little brother even though  you are three years older.  We sent up balloons to you again.  Your Daddy's got caught in a tree for a bit before it wiggled free.  Cabbott wanted to keep two of them for himself so we let him.  Later after night came he decided on his own to take them out to you.  I watched with him as they floated up.  We lost site of them quickly and only knew where they were as they floated in front of Orion's belt blocking each star's shine. One. Two. Three.  The last baloon to reach you would have been the orange one.  That's your brother's favorite color you know. 

There was no snow this year on your birthday. I always remember snow ever since you left.  It was a little sad for me not having it.  It was also a little easier without it.  Sometimes I think we need that physical thing to hold on to. To hide in.  The memories I have of the tears and guilt.  They are mine I cherish them because they are the thing I most connect with you.  You are in every drop.  Whether it be frozen or not.  Rains are everything.

I lit candles tonight for you.  Cabbott blew them out for you.  I told him he could make a wish for himself and you.  He wished for you to come visit him in a dream.  Dreams of you soon baby brother.  Dreams are everything.
Happy 8th Birthday Frost, we love you.

Night night Frost
Mama loves you

Sunday, December 18, 2016


I've been watching shadows a lot lately Frost.  Shadows in the snow and shadows in your room.  They seem to tell me things.  They tell me that you are still here, that you speak to your little brother and tell him the secrets of boyhood that he shouldn't know yet on his own.  The snow that came yesterday and stayed for your birthday was full of these shadows.  So many secrets given through them.   You have shown us so much in these seven years.   You have given so many gifts.  At night sometimes you still visit my dreams.  So many different faces, yet I always know when you are there.  Forever you will be my love and nothing can take this away.   No matter the distance, no matter the time.  I can't wrap my head around time sometimes.   I don't feel farther from you even though another year has passed, you will always be here.  I love you my sweet.  Happy birthday for the seventh time.

Night, night Frost
mama loves you

Friday, December 18, 2015

Happy 6th Birthday

A poem, a sky lantern and a bell.  These were your gifts this year.  These are your gifts every year.  But what you give to us every day, that is the true gift.  There is so much of you here with us.  The conversations I have with your brother make me wonder what you and I would have talked about.  Your sister's drawings make me wonder what your imagination would have created.  And then I realize that you are wound up in these parts of them.  I see you in their gifts everyday.  I am a mother of three.  But you are the one who watches over us.  I love you always.  I saw you in the light on the ice crystals this morning and I felt faraway for a moment.  Maybe you brought me to you for that little bit of time.  Happy birthday Frost.  Six years is so long. 
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

Thursday, December 18, 2014


There is a quiet today.
She is purring next to me with her face held to the sky.  Soft nose tickles to remind and test.
Your brother is sleeping right now.  Light breaths loud enough to tell me he is okay.  Reminding me of past worries.
The dark is setting in and my own breaths slow with the cold.  The blanket keeps him asleep longer than I should let him.  I let it.  I want this time alone to last.  Time to think of you.  With you.  With my five year old boy.  What do you know now?  How fast do you run?  Do you read stories long forgotten here?  I want to talk to you and be marveled at your boyhood wisdoms.  I want you to tell me you're too big to be held.  And here now are the tears I'd been waiting for today.  Part of my memory of your birthday.  I need them, I do.  They give me you in their own little way. 
Your snow came today.  It was the first of the season.  A late snow I think.  It was beautiful to wake up to the soft white outside my window.  Stillness, uninterrupted moments.  Something to keep. 
I set my memory by the snow and rain and wind.  You come with the snow.  Your brother with the wind.  Your sister with the rain.  My children, my reason.  Happy Birthday sweet Frost, I love you.  I will light your candles now.  Wish well.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

Monday, September 8, 2014

Maybe On The Last Full Moon

I drive in the dark of morning.  The tick-tock dark.  When that's all you hear, the automatic noises that fill in the spaces that open up each twilight as the light leaves.  Clocks and crickets.  Crinkling leaves and heavy breaths.  The sounds that enter the sleeping's dreams and transform into up-side-down tap dancers and floating violinists.  Night whispers that become bejeweled sky-divers and naked dragons.  These sounds are what make up my morning trek.  These sounds, coupled with the thick coat of midnight, change me in the mornings.  My mornings become a waking dream, a time when I believe anything could become true.  A time when I ask questions and am given answers in the form of a frozen deer or a rare shooting star.  Symbols I hold on to, but will never fathom.  In the dark, when I am alone, I believe that everything I see is just for me.  The giant shadows of trees, sentries that were planted long before I was born only to shield my path at that moment.  The other cars on the road, phantoms whose headlights are sent to bewilder me.  I wonder at their drivers and if they are in their own dreams or merely a piece of mine.  Perhaps I am in theirs.  The curving road, first gravel, then paved, then highway.  Slow, fast, faster, slow.  My guide in the night.  I follow it unconsciously, I remember the destination, I forget the beginning by the end.  What happened in between?  A song, a face?  Many times tears.  My favorite mornings are those when the moon travels with me.  I watch her, I search for the faces I have thrown up to her.  Those who have left me, I keep with her.   She is like a precious locket to me, and when I am alone I open her up to see the pictures of those I love.  Primarily yours, Frost.  You are always first on those mornings that the moon follows me, leads me, takes me away, took you away. 
During my dark mornings, I wonder at what I will never need to have an answer to.  I spend time on questions that are too late.  I ask out loud to skies that do not speak, hoping to be given a clue to a mystery that was never mine.  I do all of these things because I will always hope that if you were to answer me, it would be then, during the tick-tock dark of morning.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

Monday, August 18, 2014

Remembering That There Is Magic

I often times think about other people and how they see the world.  How their view of the world is different from mine.  I try to relate by listening to their stories and wondering at their pasts.  I wait for some magical connection.  Then I think of you.  Your world is not even close to ours here.  I imagine you watching us and learning and changing with us, but how do I know what you see or even how you see?  You didn't have a past here, but your story is one of the great ones I feel.  Your story is one that moves beyond the times, beyond the lands, beyond the changing faces and names.  Your story is one that is felt by all.  One that has moved so many to great good and great tragedy.  The extremes that have tattooed the Earth with the ink of so many hearts.  Frost, your story is one of love.  A magical connection.  Your story is within everyone I have ever known and have told your name and it is also within everyone I will never know and never say your name to.  Your story is there because it is one of purest love.  It has mingled with the millions of loves throughout time and become the tingle one feels when first holding hands.  It has become warmth of mother's embrace after a bad dream.  It is in the salt that swims in a lonely tear as a long lost love is remembered.  Your story is everywhere, every moment with everyone.  You are part of a beautiful gift that has been given to the world.  This ocean of love that we all swim in is where we find our greatest treasures. The things we are in awe of, the things we hold on to, the things we create for, the things we would die for.  Always to be remembered.  My sweet boy you are remembered always.

Night night Frost
Mama loves you