bittersweet

I'm off.

The first Thursday in two weeks.

(Sigh.)

My house looks like a tornado hit it.

But in the stillness of this one quiet morning,

I am going through mail

and making breakfast,

and I find this...

and it reads...

It is sweet.

Like sugar.

Bittersweet though.

Because in the same bit,

I want to cry.

I love this child.

{like my own}

Miss K has grown up

with her since preschool.

When they were 3,

they spent their first (real) sleepover

together at a friend's house.

Ahhh, the memories.

I told her,

when we leave,

she can come stay with us

for a week or two.

And I meant it.

I don't want this to be the end.

Really,

it only feels like the beginning.

So, please, please,

don't say "last".

Or goodbye.

We'll be back.

And we'll mail you something

on your next birthday.

Or perhaps,

we'll surprise you by coming home

and taking you to Bounce 'n' Play

(even though you'll think that's goofy because

you'll be "way too old for that kinda stuff.")

Then, we'll eat lunch "on the terrace" at Red Robin.

Or hit McDonald's for breakfast.

(After we've already had breakfast

because you have that same insane metabolism

that makes me instantly claim you as my daughter.)

Then go to the library and end with thrift store hopping.

Just to reminisce.