Nobody ever misses me right away.

I have a tendency of making my way into parts of your life that you don’t notice until long after I’m gone.

You’ll think of me in the laundromat, when someone three washers down has the same fabric softener I had just washed my clothes with the night before our first date.

You’ll think of me at the coffee shop, when someone ahead of you in line asks for three sugars and two creamers, like I used to.

You’ll think of me when your sister shows up to your house wearing the same nail polish I did the first time you kissed the back of my hand.

You’ll think of me when you’re in the car alone and you realize you don’t turn on the radio anymore, ‘cause our silence used to be better than whatever was playing.

You won’t really realize it until it’s too late and I’m too far gone.

Until I’m so deeply embedded into your memory and intertwined into your everyday life.

You won’t miss me immediately.

It’ll take some time.

I hate finding myself staying up late

waiting by my phone

for a call you’ll never make

I hate you

yet

before I sleep

I taste your name on my lips

followed by the words

I miss you

I want a record player.
And an intimately lit living room.
And after we put the kids to sleep, I want you to pull me away from washing the dishes.
And I want to dance with you to our song playing faintly on the record from the living room.
My face buried in your neck as you whisper to me that I'm beautiful.
I want to look up at the stairway to find that the kids snuck out and are watching us.
I want them to see our love for each other daily.
And when you pull me into a kiss, I want to hear them say "ewww" and run back to bed.
I want to laugh passionately with our lips still in an embrace.
And when our song is over, I want to lay down on the couch with my head in your lap.
I want to hear about your day as we watch the candle flicker on the coffee table.
I want you to rub my shoulders until we both fall asleep.
I want to wake up suddenly at 2:37 in the morning and kiss you softly, motioning for your hand, whispering to you "let's go to bed".
I want to hear your footsteps behind me walking up the stairs.
Before we go to our room, I want to check on the kids and marvel at our blessings.
Then I want to change into my nightgown and slide under the cool covers until I feel your warm body.
I want you to kiss the back of my neck and drape your arm around me and tell me you love me.
I want I love you too, to be the last thing I say to you, every night.
Because I do.
I don't know who you are yet, but I do...
Love you too.

Ungrateful offspring
sharper than a serpent's  tooth
a mother’s love fails