1 day 3 hours 11 minutes and 57 seconds

Yes, there really is an app for that

~

 

I slept in (til 5:45).

So I don’t have time to write the million things that I want to write this morning.

So I can’t really tell you how much I’ve missed this child. How viscerally, well … wrong it’s felt to be without her (yet how rationally I’ve known how right it is that she had this time to strike out on her own).

I don’t have time to tell you how I literally feel like I’m missing a piece of myself.

I can’t tell you how her absence has made my mind go places that I really, really don’t want it to go – to college, to moving out to Oh my God someday I’m not going to be around anymore to have I taught her what she needs to know to will she hear her Mama’s voice in her head when she needs to?

Will I be there, even when I’m not there, to help her reason through the tough decisions? The should I kiss him to the should I get into this car with a friend who maybe shouldn’t be driving to the should I smoke this joint to the is a tattoo really a good idea?

I can’t tell you how I then thought about her sister – My God what about her sister? Will there be college, moving out, making those decisions? How will that work? Is my voice in HER head? Can it possibly be? What about the tough decisions she’ll have to make? How will …

Just how?

I don’t have time to tell you all that.

I don’t even have time to tell you how much Brooke has missed her. How she climbed up into Katie’s bed the other night and buried herself in her covers. How she’s declared again and again that ‘We miss our Katie.”

And Luau. How he’s ever so quietly sent her a picture of something around the house EVERY SINGLE DAY that she’s been gone.

I just don’t have the time to really tell you.

So instead I’ll tell you this.

I tried to convince Luau that we should drive up tonight and get a room at a hotel near the camp. It would be easier, I reasoned, than getting us all up and out the door at 5:45 tomorrow morning. He humored me – he found a hotel just fifteen minutes away. And then he asked a question.

“Babe? Let me ask you something. Do you really think it’s a good idea for us to drive up there and for you to be fifteen minutes away from her for, oh, say ten hours that you still can’t see her?”

I paused. I probably did that nose scrunching thing that Katie has taken from me and perfected.

“I’m just sayin’, babe,” he went on, “I kinda envision me waking up in the morning and saying, ‘Brooke, have you seen Mama? Did she tell you where she was going when she snuck out in the middle of the night?’”

I had to agree. It wasn’t the best plan.

Tomorrow morning.

9:30.

I get my heart back.

And I can’t wait.

A picture sent to us by the camp

 

 

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24 thoughts on “1 day 3 hours 11 minutes and 57 seconds

  1. My comment to the first part of this post is: “Wait to sorry”!
    My comment to the rest of the post: I understand completely!

    She looks so happy in the picture.

    Love you,
    Mom

  2. I can’t wait to hear how this experience was for her. Such a brave thing to do (for mom too),but, incredibly rewarding I am sure. Not too much longer now Jess

  3. I can’t wait for you to tell us what a GREAT time she had. I know this is hard (since I have to wait until SUNDAY for my pick up) but my BIGGEST hope is that the overnight camp was the BEST BEST BEST, and I can’t wait to hear all the stories. BE STRONG.

  4. Only a mama can know how the heart aches every second we are missing our child! I can’t wait to hear all about her trip and for your heart to stop aching!! It’s closer every second!

  5. You did good by sending her away. I bet she did great too. Imagine when you see her tomorrow. I’m picturing the smiles and tears now and they make me happy.

  6. That smile on her face says everything… so dear! You are a GREAT Mama who did not only the hardest thing ever in letting her out of your sight, but you gave that smile to her… a smile of “I did it! All on my own!” Way to go Mom… I know, oh how I know, how hard it was for you! ♥

  7. Yes, she will hear your voice in her head when she faces other decisions and you are not there. She may however, just like her mother, ignore that voice from time to time. If she turns out as good as her mom has even if she doesn’t always listen, she will be a great adult too.
    Take each step only one at a time and step by step you will get there. Lots of little pieces lead to the whole.
    Love you,
    Dad

  8. More tears. I look forward to tomorrow as if Katie were my own! Love the picture of her, she seriously looks like she’s grown!

  9. I love your blogs, but I love the fact that your mom is always the first one to comment even more. And today your dad made me cry. You have the most incredible support system, and that tells me your girls are going to be OK. If they don’t hear your voice, they’ll hear Daddy’s voice. Or Grandma’s voice. Or Grandpa’s voice. Or maybe all they’ll hear is their own voice, but that’s OK because you’re teaching them to trust their own voices, and that’s even better.

    • Yes! I agree. The best job we can do is give them the confidence to listen to their OWN voice. Jess, you are doing this for your girls in spades!

  10. Enjoy your beautiful, loving reunion!! (Don’t be surprised if she misses camp and all that it held for her – doesn’t mean she loves you less, just that she’s found an indepedance and place she loves anew).

    Hugs.

  11. Oh yes, we’re on the same clock. My heart/ left arm/ sweet boy returns about 11 EST.

    15 hours 15 minutes. : )

    And hey– that’s one beautiful picture of one beautiful girl!

    Karin

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