It was sitting on the porch, next to the full ashtray and my lighter. The white chair, her favorite, was sitting where she left it. I felt my stomach flip, and realized I was sad.

I picked up the book, hoping to find something of her left in it. It’s not like she’s gone forever. I’m going to see her in a few weeks for Alexis’s wedding. But there was something right about her presence on my porch, reading and allowing the breeze to ruffle her streaked hair. She’s gotten older. And she has mannerisms from Grannie, slight motions of her hand or inflections in her voice that are typical of my animated Grandmother. I wonder if she finds those same characteristics in me? Or have I worked too hard to become someone totally unlike her?

I love my mother. She makes me laugh and is honest with me about things that no one else will talk about. I trust her. And although we have gone through our share of trauma (who hasn’t?) with Randy and the complete segregation of my presence from Raean, I think that she is my best friend (save David and Lex). I always feel better when I talk to her, even when I’m not blue. And for a moment, I really wanted her to come back, to sit on my porch, and read her cheesy novels in the sun. I miss my mother.