Loss for Day 4: #Writing 101

 I don’t wake up in the morning thinking about them every day, but this time of year brings both of them back to me in the tips of my fingers and I want to reach for the phone and make calls.  They lived far enough away from me that for those spontaneous conversations the phone was  a necessity.  I don’t spend much time on phones anymore.  It’s so 2014 to shoot off a text or compose an email instead.  But when I have something to share with either one, my hand moves into the mode that held us together.

My mom did most of the talking.  I tried to get in a word and sometimes I got my chance but she was always just waiting for her entrance.  Honestly I loved listening to her because I always heard in her voice what I needed as her daughter.  I am confident because there was no other way to be in the world for my mom.  She gave me the opportunity she didn’t offer herself and I took it.  But even in the last year when it was harder and harder to her to compose a thought our daily conversations fueled me.  I miss her shower of love.

Eileen and I battled on the phone.  Not at each other, but the causes we cared about and we listened to each other and waited for our chance to add something.  We pushed each other in the moment of passion to think more deeply.  Often when I got off the phone with my left ear red and my arm aching, I kept the conversation going in my head.

As time passes I can pinpoint just what I’m missing and wishing I had them back to hear their voices.



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"writing is the painting of the voice" -Voltaire-

Tammy L. Breitweiser

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