Frost, I've noticed that since we lost you everything that meant something to me before has changed its meaning. The songs that first made me long for a loving boyfriend now make me dream of my sleeping son. The poetry I remember reading when I was a teenager, those words all lead my mind to you now. You have become "The Road Not Taken" and an "Ode to a Nightingale". The red bird I saw singing in the woods on the tip-top of the tallest tree one spring morning when I was younger than eight, well now I think that bird was singing of you. I've always wondered why seeing the cardinal that one time stayed with me all of these years and now I know. I can still feel that day. It was early, I had spent the night at my cousin's house in the country and had woken before her. I wandered out of the back door and walked to the north side of the house. I sat down in a patch of green cool clover and picked at the foliage. I remember the feeling of the morning, it was crisp and new. The day was welcoming me, it was asking me to be a part of the world that morning. I answered by looking out into the woods and seeing the glow of the sun wake the leaves of the trees. It was golden time, that's what I've always called this time of day, and I smiled. After the day recognized me, it sent a messenger to ask me to play. The reddest bird called to me, from the edge of the clouds as if he were saying "We see you Jessica, and we know that you see us, now let's see if you can catch us before we catch you!" I remember trying to make the same sound as the cardinal. I trilled "Cree-eee, Cree-eee!" He answered back in agreement. I wonder what I said to him that day, I wonder if I made a deal that I could not take back. I think maybe I promised to give the sky the most beautiful gift to ever fly from cloud to cloud, my tiny angel.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.
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