We are Mothers

I keep changing the things I like about myself. Lately, I've been happy with the way my hair looks, it curls, I like that. I have more of these curls when I don't brush my hair, too bad I always brush it before I go anywhere. That means my friends don't get the full effect of the curl. I'm mad at my eyes because they don't impress me the way that they used to. They've gone to a new place with all of the crying I've done and I don't know if they can come back. When I think I can see some of the old spirit come back, a big heavy sinks over me and off they go again. The age has withered in on me in places. I can see it, before I thought it would never come. Time stomped on me this year.
I like that I'm thinking more again, the way I did in highschool when I first dabbled with the words I love to rearrange. I left this treasure alone for a while. I don't know why but I busied myself with other things. I have to start bringing things out of their boxes and admiring them more. Using them to decorate my soul. Remembering that I have them.
I wish that I had taken more pictures of myself when I was younger, I need to see my youth now and I'm afraid I don't have anything to look at. I've made sure that Hadley will have pictures. I guess that I should feel blessed that I was given the chance to age. You were not given this chance, Frost. The only pictures we have are of your very beginning and your very ending.
I am more patient now, the little nit-picky things don't bother me. Sentimental things do, however, kidnapp me. These few things I have to hold on to, take me away when I see, hear or feel them. My Mom told me that my Grandma has been looking at old pictures with her nurse a lot lately. It's funny because she used to gripe when I always got the pictures out and asked her questions about the people and the years and the places. Now that her memories are leaving her she wants constant reminders of what she had and does not want to forget. I wanted images of where I came from and I wanted to hear the story from her. I wish that I had been told more of the stories of our family, then I could tell these to her now. When she turned 80, when her mind was still strong, I wrote her a birthday poem. In it, I wrote of the beautiful memories that she gave to me, those that helped build my childhood. She cried, she had never cried much before that I remembered. Now she cries everytime we see her, she doesn't want to leave us. She cried so much when you died Frost. She told me that she had prayed for you every night while you were in my belly, and then she said "I guess it didn't work". She remembered you every night, even though she would forget how to say our names or write a W, she remembered you even though she had never met you. I think it is because she knew where you came from and she thought that you would be our future. I like that I am a Mother and I feel that the gift was given to me from her through my Mother, we are good Mothers. I wish that I could bring you back for our entire family. I wish that your chapter in our family history did not have to be the saddest. I want a happy ending, I want you to come back to me. Can't you please do this? Maybe just for Mother's Day.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.