Everywhere and Nowhere

After going on vacation with James, I was amazed at how many twins we saw. I even saw several little red headed girls, and I found myself pretending they were my girls. Then we get home, and I can’t even pretend anymore. It is silent here at home by myself, as James has to return to work.

I can’t take the silence anymore. It is eating at my soul. There should be laughs, cries, and screams. It is becoming unbearable and the silence is growing louder and louder with each passing day.

I can see James walking in from a long day at work and picking each of the girls up and giving them a kiss, I can see the outstretched pudgy little hands in the air reaching for Dadda. I can see them crawl to him, uncoordinatedly with their over sized heavy infant heads. They are pulling each other’s curls and telling on one another. “Mommy, make Wilwow stop.” “No, tell Azel to stop.”

I smile at my girls as I walk to them and step on cheerios the whole way there. I can see a toddler running, arms in front of her yelling, “Kitty!” as Isis runs for her life to hide in another room. There is a spaghetti bowl upside down in the kitchen floor, but I don’t even seem to care.

We are at the beach in Michigan, the same place we got our first glimpse into the future. The perfect “Pregnant” on a stick. The twins are covered in sunscreen and so are James and I. little swimmer diapers peek out from under matching bright pink swimsuits. Hazel runs toward the water, as James runs after her. Her toes hit the water and she lets out a squeal, turning and running back to Dadda with her hands flailing wildly and uncontrollably as she giggles.

Willow sits beside me digging her hands into the sand and piling it before her. Hazel always was the more adventurous. Willow is the thinker, the creator. She’s going to have my artistic ability, I can see it now.

It is the middle of the night and I wake up to find James not in the bed with me. I trudge out of our room and can see a nightlight on in the nursery. I peek in to see James holding two very sleepy girls and two bottles propped up just right. He is softly singing them a lullaby. They stretch and yawn between verses.

Little bird, little bird,
Fly through my window,
Little bird, little bird,
Fly through my window,
Little bird, little bird
Fly through my window,
And find molasses candy.

Through my window,
My sugar lump,
Fly through my window,
My sugar lump,
And find molasses candy.

I feel empty. My soul somehow escaped before its time and left with the girls. I feel the emptiness all around, in pictures of James and I, when I sleep, it stabs at me when I try to forget about it. I can feel it when I am happy, and in my voice. It is in my eyes and my tears.

We are here, and they are there. I can feel them everywhere. They are everywhere, but nowhere to be found.

Taken at Willow’s Funeral


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