Blood

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

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