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She misses you.

She is sure you are running around with your shirt untucked, jam on your face and your hair sticking up. It bothers her.

She wants you to be good, to keep that tongue in your mouth, to wipe that smile off your face, to pay attention in church. Be good today, for her.

She wants the world for you, to keep you safe, to hold you close and never let you go. It breaks her heart when you're away.

She still walks the path to your room hunting for clothes, stepping carefully to miss the toys, looking for fingerprints on the walls. She thinks the house is too big now, without you.

She remembers you, pink and squalling, helpless and hopeful, innocent and open. The day you left the house hurt with a special pain.

Call your mom. She misses you.