Momma had a face-to-face meeting with her own irrational craziness today. It snuck up in the most innocent way, without drama, fussiness or tears. It just...was.
So, Momma was making plans with Aunt D to meet up after work. Just a glass of wine and some catch-up time. As we batted around locations to meet, we mentioned one of our favorite wine bars...but noticed we had both avoided bringing it up. Why? Because it is right next door to the restaurant where we had dinner on January 25, 2011. A Tuesday night. The last night I got to hug you and hear you whisper, "Momma."
Peanut, I've always been a little superstitious. A little too focused on patterns and coincidence. The mere thought of meeting Aunt D after work (not a Tuesday, mind you) at a location close to that restaurant was...well...unthinkable. Not even a consideration. I didn't even bat an eye when I said, "No way."
Part of what now feels normal and right? Yes.
We wound up meeting at a location in a totally different part of town, and in many ways made sure it was a VERY different evening from that January night. But still...as I type this post my brain is worried. What if Momma has set a series of events in motion? What if my lack of presence at home tonight will somehow cause The Pickle to not wake up tomorrow?
I made sure I got home in plenty of time to hold him, love on him, let him fall asleep in my arms tonight. I kissed him and told him over and over again, "I love you." Just in case.
That is life now. That is normal. This need to always say "I love you." To always live like this is our last moment, our last night, our last "goodnight." Just in case.
Am I irrational? Yes.
Am I crazy? Yes.
Is this the "new" normal? Yes.
Peanut, I am forever thankful for my out-of-character actions the night before you died. My need to go into your room when I heard you fussing, rather than let you "cry it out." Singing to you and giving you those final kisses. Those Peanut hugs and the final, "Momma" you whispered in my ear. The fact that I did get to tell you how much I loved you. How could I have known it would be our last night? But...I believe you fell asleep knowing how much your Momma loves you.
Oh, how I wish you were still here with your adorable laugh, toothy grin and expressive little eyebrows. How I wish I could talk to you. Hug you. Read you a book. I can't wait to see you in heaven...I can't wait to scoop you up and say to you in person:
"Peanut! Guess how much I love you? To the moooooooooooooon - and back!"
And you will whisper in my ear, "Momma...I love you too..."