Ghosts
I can't make a hamster mansion today. Wanted to. I wanted to play Sorry and talk about Pokemon and snuggle under blankets and whisper secrets. I really did.
You were the first, you know, the first one to take my breath away with your smile and make me feel like no one else could ever be as lucky as me. We used to sleep until noon in my bed, and you would stir and fuss and find me with your hand, and blissfully tumble back into your baby dreams.
You were why I wanted more children, our first years together were perfect, just perfect, and I wanted to add to that. Your brother had other ideas, though, and God did, too. Your brother screamed and your health problems began to emerge, and each day was less idyllic than the last. One more rugged pregnancy and health problems times three made sure those lazy days were gone for good.
Does it matter that I miss you, that my heart pines for you like a long lost first love?
You stand in the doorway with the game you wanted to play, watching me change a diaper while on the phone with the doctor and I catch your eye and give you an apologetic smile. I see sadness in your eyes that a note in your lunchbox just can't fix.
I love your brothers like oxygen, but there are times I wish it was just us again. Sometimes in my dreams I smell your two year old hair and watch you play in the yard with your imaginary friends, pooh bears of all different shapes and colors and sizes. Then I notice it is getting dark, and my belly is starting to swell, and I know our time alone is coming to an end. We say goodbye to your ghostly playmates, and I wonder if we will ever see them again.
That time is not lost to us Sage. That playground is right here in my heart, and I am keeping it safe, for when everyone else is asleep in bed, and the summer night is still, and we can go out and run among the ghosts of childhood once again.
