Twenty Seven

I sat up late last night wishing I could talk to you.  It be your twenty seventh birthday.  I imagined sitting on couches, with a cozy blanket, a warm drink and let the sound of your voice ring in my head.  I know exactly how you would sound, and your laugh has echoed in the hollows of my soul for almost 11 years -- and I pray it will forever.  What I don't know is what you would say.

I remember your humor so well.  The faux dramatic satire (wonder where you got that from).  The expressions and intonations in your voice.  But we didn't get to see you grow into a career, or go out into the world.  I expect you could have used your magnetic personality to be a leader in the   workplace.  And I wonder about the places you would have gone, and what paths that would have inspired you to pursue?

I wonder, in this imaginary conversation where I can hear the richness of your words, what you would tell me.  Would it be sharing simple happinesses about being a great mom?  Would it be angst at a challenge in your career?  Maybe you would have followed that love of randomness into becoming a traveler.  Or an activist.

I wish I could hear about all the things you had done.  I wish you could have had a chance to see and do all of these things, and my heart breaks at all that you should have had, all that you could have been.

I guess I don't know what you would be saying.  But I bet there would be smiles, some ease.  I am sure I would be proud of who you had become.  And I would be feeling so special that you were spending time with your old aunt.  Miss you every day.  Happy Birthday Jaycena.