Missing my old life

Missing my old life, what was it like? It was scratching my daughter’s back and hearing her tell me her dreams. It was having a glass of wine with the other, more a friend than my child. It was back in the day, enjoying the witticisms of my only son and his friends. It’s listening to a teacher marveling at my daughter’s intellect. It was seeing my kids strum an instrument. It was watching my three kids skating playing street hockey. It’s standing by as my kids brushed their teeth watching them in the mirror— growing. It’s standing on the side of a mountain, afraid they would step too close to the edge. Blessed beyond blessed is my life being a mother. Those are the days I miss the most.