I’m here.

The whisper of the wind faintly reminded me that I wasn’t alone. I was standing in what felt like a winter waste land, but with headstones peeping up at least 2 acres around me. I never felt colder in my life, and yet I felt the warmth of the sun on my cheeks allowing me to stand outside a little longer.

And there she was. Standing no more than 20 feet away. I could hardly believe my eyes. She was standing perfect still in a royal green dress that swayed back and forth across her ankles. Her sleeves passed the tips of her fingers as if it were a waterfall flowing from her arms, or maybe that’s just the style.

But she was there. And my voice was shattered. I could barely form Hello.

I have never seen her glow so loud before. She was elequent in every way. Her hair was fixed and swirled with the dirty blonde highlights bouncing around. It’s as if she hadn’t aged since I last saw her. Why would she?

She’s suppose to be six feet down, I thought. 

And then she spoke, softly. 

I’m here. 

She was more like 10 feet away now. Approaching me slowly, to not scare me.

Here I am. Almost 21 years old. I haven’t spoken to her since I was 12. My whole world has changed. And she wasn’t there for any of it. So what am I suppose to say? I’m an adult now. And she doesn’t look a day past 36.

We could be friends,I thought.

But she’s my mother. And I want to squeeze her. And tell her I love her. And wish that things could stay like this forever. And she could braid my hair, life before. And she could help me with my homework. And she could drive me places. And we could go shopping. And she could tell me all about her teenage years. And tell me all the things she never did, but I wish she would have.

And then I realize, I don’t want any of that. Because I’d rather just be with her.

But it’s not real. And suddenly I’m alone. And I rub my eyes, because my contacts fooled me. And I’m in focus again. And the only thing left is her tombstone.

But her voice lingers. I’m here.

And I know, she’s here. Even if I can’t hear her. Or see her. Or touch her. She’s here. Because she could never really leave me. And so I believe she has all the front row seats to all my big life events. And she knows what’s going on in my life. And she’s going to help me through. By reminding me that I’ve grown into a strong, loving, caring human being. And that she’s here. Always.

[that was about a recent dream I had, it was unbelievably vivid. my mother was seriously so beautiful and I could make her out so clearly as if I saw her yesterday in the flesh. it was so magical. and i think it was a message to remind me that i’m not alone. even when i feel so utterly alone. she’s there. thanks mom. i love you.]


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