Two years old

I went to bed early last night, and you woke me this morning with a beautiful pink sunrise. I ran out to take a picture to commemorate your second birthday. My camera's battery had died.
You're growing older in my dreams too, Frost. Faster than you would have here. I dreamt of a boy the other night, a young teenager, he had lighter hair than the rest of us and a grin so mischievous. He came around the corner from where I was in the dream and we started playing hide and seek as if he were a toddler. We played for a little while and the he ran off, strong and happy. It was nice and I woke happy. These are the dreams I have to remember, these are the ways I mark my days.
Inside now there are rainbows on your sister's bedroom walls. The winter sun shines through her prisms. She has quite a collection in her windows. I like to watch as they change, I know that they will only last a short while but I know that I will not forget their beauty.
I have wishes for you today on your birthday. But all my wishes are that you had known earthly things, that you had delighted in living. I want to know what your wishes are Frost. What do soul's wish for? You deserve them, so I will light two candles now for you and let them burn until you blow them out. And then your wish will come true. I love you always.
Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.

Like a cat

The quiet has gone away. There's not enough quiet anymore. In the quiet I talk to you. Too many sounds push in and try to crowd our time together. Sometimes they don't recognize how much I need the quiet. I tried to reach into the quiet today. I shut my door and found your blanket. The soft tiny one that I wove for you. I didn't finish it before you died. I tied the fringe after and left it longer than I would have if you had ever touched it. That way I have more to hold when I try to find the quiet that I need. I traced the wavy weave and spread it out over my mattress. I cried out the weak tears, the noise. I pushed everything that was too heavy into the blanket. I gave the blanket weight and held it, rocked it. I made it settle my heart. I found happiness in my own stillness. I made room for the quiet, the beauty. Some days I envy what others have. Some days I know that I have something others do not. I know what the quiet is for.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

It should have been a picture

I carried a bag in from the garden today. It was filled with herbs and tomatoes and okra. I grew these. As I walked toward the house with my harvest, I felt the bag's weight and noticed it's distance from the ground. It turned into you, reaching up and taking my hand. We walked under the dried up apple trees, whose fruit has already fallen. When I reached the basement door I stopped to wipe away a few tears. The bag had changed back into itself. Your little surprise visits take my breath away.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you

My Windows aren't high enough

When I look at the tops of trees I have to look up. You look down. That is the only difference. Such a huge difference. Just thinking of you, and how I need a mountain.

Night, night Frost
mama loves you.

Much Needed Storm

It came at the end of an oblong day. I sat by the window and waited for lightening. I went out into it and felt the fat drops. I loved the fat drops, on my shoulders and dress. I watched the storm play, like a child flipping a light switch off and on. I listened to it speak in the leaves and die in the parched soil. The clouds circled round and flashed through many faces. Too many to recognize, but I know I knew some of them. It made the cats huddle. It made my plants smile. It made your cousin dance. It made me realize comfort in summer. It's electricity changed up the day, it moved me forward and made me think of who I was missing and how you are a part of that energy, and how you stay with me in so many ways. You fly far above my head and every so often come down and share a little peace with me. I needed you today Frost. Thank you for knowing that.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.

Bundle in the Road

Do you know that you are the first person I tell anything to? Lately you are the only one. I can't get past the thought that if God thought that I didn't deserve to have my baby why would I deserve to have friends or any other pleasures. I try to hide this and imagine that I can relate to others, but really, really right now I feel nothing but alone. I hurt right now, I'm deep down in the pain again. People take the look on my face as hatred, but really it's pain and shame and a shield so that I don't have to try and explain my emotions to those who can't fathom a dead baby. They forget this from day to day, or they just want me to be normal. Every little thing for me goes back to you. The random cry in the store. The nod of flowers in the wind of Memorial Day. The baby woodpecker being fed on the side of the tree by his mother until he braved the feeder himself. The dirty bundle I saw in the road.
The dirty bundle I saw in the road that everyone else let pass as garbage. My mind twisted it into a swaddled tiny newborn left to our mercies. Of course I was too frightened to make sure. I was too cowardly to see a face I had seen before. I still don't know what truly lay within that cloth. Abandoned without a care for who it could have been. We never left you Frost. But my mind tells me all the time that I didn't do enough and that's why I feel and look the way I do. Tortured with regret. I can't fix myself for other people. Sometimes all I want to do is go to you. I wish I could have let myself go crazy after you died and live in a world where a word or a toy could fullfill all of the joys that a baby brings. I wish my imagination could bring you back, but I don't let it because for some reason this isn't acceptable even though it would be nice to have. If I ever do go crazy you'll be the first one I tell.

Night, night Frost
Mama loves you.

I need more hours. I need to do things. I haven't. I get some things done each day. I have had another birthday, it's past now. Your sister's is next. She will be nine. I need more hours with her while she is little. I've been longing for those days again. When I took her to story-time. When I could carry her for hours. When she would make up her own language. I wish I could dream of you. Every night if I could dream that you were living, I would watch you grow each night. You would be walking now if I would have started those dreams last year. I should have made my brain do that. bring you to life at night in my head. If only I had that control. I cried today and went outside, away from others, to call your daddy. I talked through my tears with him and played with pine needles. I looked to my right and looking at me was a baby rabbit. He wasn't so young that he was helpless. He was young enough to be darling and old enough to explore. I would say that he was a toddler bunny. He watched for a bit and I told your dad that he was there. He made my sadness lighten. He inched off toward where he had come from, the barren underside of a dumpster. His softness looked alien to the hard pavement that surrounded him then. But his gentle curiosity took away the harshness. He made things better today just by looking in on me. Just by taking the moment to notice something in someone he should fear. I hope to see him again. Or maybe we should keep it how it was. I'll let him decide. Night, night Frost mama loves you