Nine year-old Miss M has gone with her class to Space Camp in Huntsville, Alabama for three days, and even though I’m the one ostensibly in charge ‘round these parts, I must confess--I’m a little lost without my girl. In the past 24 hours, I’ve spontaneously wondered aloud about the quiet and asked Boy Wonder and the Spouse whether they miss Miss M as much as I do, oh, I don’t know—ten or twelve times now? Enough that they’re getting sick of it, at any rate. I sit in her bedroom and admire the pink glow from the gingham curtains my sister-in-law and I made for her, thinking about where she is and what she’s doing. Rockets? Space pods? Low-gravity chamber? I look through her closet and her books and her CDs. I study how neatly she left her room, her pillows and stuffed animals piled just so. I smell her sweaters and wish I could bury my nose in her hair, which to me, always smells like buttered toast. I think about making her Welcome Home! sign and what we'll do this weekend. I check my phone for text updates.
Have I mentioned how much I miss her?
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