Missing

Morning broke too quietly.

No clamoring down the stairs,

Squeaky voices calling for me.

Time was back on schedule and

Life resumed its scripted pace.

Their presence was a gift of time

A reliving of cherished moments

Of motherhood.

Of purpose.

Of chaos that was beautiful, because I was essential.

Morning pancakes with syrup

Bubbles in the yard

Painting in smocks

The floor is lava

Tickles, hide and seek, made up games and make believe

Bonds that grow with each moment, giggle, hug.

It was temporary by design.

Now, toys lie awaiting a visit.

Sticky chairs sit empty.

Rooms echo with silence.

My necessity vanished with them.

The gift of time has expired.

I miss them with every tick of the clock.