I keep looking at the door, expecting to see her walk through it.

waiting

When I roam the halls, I keep waiting to hear her voice.

quiet

In the front room, I almost see her twirling.

empty

Every time I turn, I feel like she’s just out of my sight. I think I see her out of the corner of my eye, but the mind plays tricks.

As I pack up the only home she knew, I wonder what she’d think of this new home, where we will continue life. Which room would she have picked? Would she want to share with her sister? Would she have picked out a purple color for her walls, or something new and different? I’ll never know.

I want to know!

The spots where she should be are empty.

I told myself it wouldn’t be hard. I told myself I was ready.

I lied.


Thanks to everyone who has voted for me (by clicking like) for the Babble “Moms Who Are Chaning The World” contest. The winner in each category gets $5000 for their charity, so voting for me is voting for Friends of Maddie. It means so much to us, so thank you again.