Fleeting

The plan is early to bed.  Often the plan, rarely, if ever, the reality.  Those so many days ago when I said goodbye and knew I wouldn't find Phoebe sitting on my bed late at night...waiting, I promised I would try my best to never miss those moments again.  I sense the quiet settling in and the urge to write pulls me, knowing the great comfort I find in flying my fingers across the keyboard.  But so often, when I want to sit quietly, compose my thoughts into words, and then slip off to bed ...other plans emerge.  First one, just needing to sit close by ...and I pull up a stool and join her, ruffle her hair until she sneaks off to bed.  So maybe now, some time to write ...maybe not.  Another finds me, special treatment, help her with something, quick conversations reviewing the day, the prom months away, pictures shown, plans for tomorrow.  And I shake my head ..yes, and yes, and of course.  A dramatic goodnight, a return assignment ...Mom, make sure you....  I do a final wipe of the counter, switch off lights, let the thoughts flow.  Quiet. Door opens to the kitchen, changing the light.  A new head, hair piled high up on top ...remember you promised ...tonight.  Oh yes, how I'd forgotten.  And we sit and squabble and conflict and resolve ...over and over.  I'm frustrated, worn out ...all I want to do is write.  All I want to do is spend time remembering and finding.  She f.i.n.a.l.l.y. patters off to bed, I think.  And I remember all those nights when there was only one teenage girl with just one other in the wings.  And she reminds me, with gusto, that these moments of juggling, of trying to eek out just a shadow of time for my own thoughts ...are really much more fun when three girls, each resembling her in their own way,  keep knocking.
I sigh deep.  You're here, aren't you?  I whisper.  I promised I wouldn't miss these moments ...and she holds me to that.  She knows me enough to know I won't go back on my word.  I'll follow through imperfectly, but I'll keep my promise, until the end.  They'll remember I was there ...and she helps me do it.  Ever present for my kids, I am one tired out momma ...but these evenings spent can't be recaptured ...and I'm glad they go as they do. 
I'd write every day if I could, and someday, when its my time, I wonder if I'll find a big book with all I've wanted to write captured and preserved. 
I find Phoebe in the ordinary evening with teenage girls parading, demanding, laughing, hugging ....and finally sleeping.  Her sisters ...so much like her that I get to peek at the great missing ...and smile.
Please say a prayer for all the moms and dads missing their precious child ...we need them.