Finding Her

Today, we are headed up North to the small town of Happy Jack. Nestled in the high pines of the Coconino National Forest, sits my parents' little cabin.

I'm looking forward to some family time, without the distractions of tv, schedules, appointments, school, playdates, and chores.

I am desperate for some calm.

I love this time of year! I love the cool mornings, the scents and colors, the pumpkin cookies and pumpkin bread, and the unpacking of scarves and sweaters.

I love it all

and so did my mom.

It was her favorite time of year as well. And, I can't help but get wrapped up in memories of her.

She was Fall, from the color of her hair to her extensive wardrobe. Rust, ginger, terra cotta, gold, bronze, brown...she draped herself in the colors of Fall.

Two difficult days are marked this season: the day she died and the day she was born. It is impossible to avoid the longing to have her here.

I miss her.

Over the last month, I have found it difficult to escape the feeling of loss. I just need her. I know she is well. I know she is healed. I know she is happy and peaceful.

But, I want her here.

It is wholly and completely selfish,

but

I want her here.

I want to hear her voice, see her face.

I pray every night, Mom, please come to me in my dreams. Two years later, I am still waiting.

The other night, as I was reading him a bedtime story, Calvin began crying. He missed Grandma. Occasionally, the kids break down and I am able to comfort them.

Lately, I just fall apart along with them.

I am hoping that this time at her cabin will give us a chance to slow down for a couple of days and I will be able to feel her near.

Against the backdrop of whispering pines, crisp mountain air, and late-afternoon showers, I pray that I will once again find patience, peace, and comfort.

I pray I will find her.