Cookies

Today wouldn't let me be normal. I tried to match the happy people around me. I tried to be spirited and talkative. But today boxed me up and sent me back to December. The pain was fresh again. It's been three months since you died, but the pain is very alive. I usually cry at home, today I sobbed at work. The people that saw me, comforted me. They give the best hugs to your Mama, Frost. And the saddest thing about those hugs to me, is that I can never give one to you. I think about those kinds of things when good things happen. I don't get to share happy times with you. Writing to you isn't enough sometimes. There were so many little boys in the store today. Baby boys, toddler boys, grade school boys, cute boys with curls, bratty boys with cookies, and sleeping boys in their Mother's arms. I heard Mothers talking to their boys and so I decided to start talking to you. I was labeling packages of cookies. The package read "FROSTED COOKIES", so I took the price sticker and covered the "ED" on each package. I said your name over and over in my mind as I did this. I hope you heard me. I hope another little boy's Mother bought a package of "Frost" Cookies and made her son smile. These are the only things I can do for you. This is how I make memories with you. I stretch simple things to their limit, and I make that extreme all about you. This is how I reach out to you. I see your name everywhere, and so I see you everywhere.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.