The silence surprised me when he left; it echoed in the rooms and but for an occasional bird singing praise for early spring weather, I felt somewhat empty.  How quickly we settle into forgotten routines, bantering after dinner, arguing over which channel to watch…joking about how much of our news comes from social media.  The Easter basket’s empty, the tulips he left slowly lean towards the light and their lavender heads reveal blossoms that slowly emerge as the sun crosses the sky. There’s leftover salmon in the fridge to eat, he’s turned into a far better cook than I and yet my appetite is for the sound of his voice, his earnest look as he discussed the state of the world with me, the gentleness and kindness he has with me now…my boy turned man.  Oh, how I wish childhood lasted longer, or perhaps the best of childhood I remember.  I am like the tree who has given her branches, her fruit, and desires nothing more than to give to the boy who once climbed on her lap, who listened to her stories, shade and comfort and love.  The bond that spans the miles is stronger than any superhero could imagine.  It exists in the tightly woven story of our lives sewn with tears and laughter…puppies and campfires.  When I look at him, I see me and I wonder at the marvel of it all; how we continue to live on through the eyes of the ones we carried so carefully.  I know its time for me to come to grips with it all, this singleness I never imagined I would experience again but I can’t help but look back over my shoulder for in its memory, it still brings me joy.