I Miss

I miss being an automobile passenger

I miss not being in a constant state of heightened awareness

I miss the perfectly ridiculous/ridiculously perfect lasso dance

I miss having a handyman to repair the long list of items damaged, dying, or dead since the accident (reading lamps, automobile mirrors, window screens, door glass panels, car batteries, gutters, overhead light pulls)

I miss his smile

I miss the boisterous, sassy cacophony that my three trash-talking, wrestling boys can generate, four boys I guess when the dog joins the fracas

I miss running errands whenever

I miss receiving his full paycheck, with the overtime that can build during the summer months’ long daylight

I miss feeling like I can answer, “How are you?” honestly

I miss asking others how they are

I miss the safety of a hug so tight it’s almost hard to breathe

I miss when I thought muscular dystrophy was the toughest thing I would ever have to face

I miss watching all seven innings of my son’s baseball games

I miss before