My Dreams

I saw you last night. It's been nearly three and a half years. I was worried about you, perhaps more for myself. You seem well, even unconcerned, although somewhat preoccupied. I simply wanted to give you a hug. When I did it felt so good, so real. I offered to help, but it's apparent you're without need. I could scarcely believe that we were there face to face, talking; there in the home of my youth. You know, someone else bought the place shortly after your funeral. How many times I have desired to walk back into that good old house, to see you there, cooking another delicious meal for us; to smell the love in the air; to again sit at that familiar friendly table where hearts so often were shared; to talk and laugh; to recall Dad and his wonder of life; to gaze out the window into the backyard where as a child I discovered grand enchantment; to see and feel the light of joy aglow all about us. It's been such a long time Mom. I miss you. I miss us. I miss everything. Aren't dreams amazing. Like returning comets in the night, waving. They seem to be saying something like: Don't give up hope. We will see each other again. For even in the dark, some light unexpectedly appears, here and there, promising 'more to come'. I can't wait to see you again, even if it's just in my fond and friendly dreams.