I miss having so much passion and so many feelings that I could write a novel, let alone a blogpost.I miss sleeping through the night.
I miss being in charge of humans who I created and not being in charge of those who created me.
I miss waking up and not feeling pain with the first step in the morning.
I miss remembering names and places and details.
I miss mentioning that I feel warm and not having people make cracks about menopause.
I miss feeling slim.
I miss feeling so young that looking forward was nothing but excitement and wonderful things ahead.
I miss my toddler children who would cling to me and look up to me and think I was the smartest, best person in the world.
I miss the smell of little baby feet.
I miss back scratches from my mom.
I miss my dad...before dementia and Parkinsonism robbed him of his personality and will to live.
I miss having an office and a job and feeling important.
I miss riding in the car with my girlfriends singing at the top of our lungs.
I miss hugging my puppy and smelling her soft fur.
I miss that wonderful feeling of having a free moment to myself in the midst of the chaos of being a working mom.
I miss the feel of a baby kicking from inside my tummy.
I miss the belly laughs of my kids when they were young.
I miss riding my bike when I was young, looking for a place we'd never seen, in search of adventure.
I miss the world before it was snarky and cynical and doubtful and exclusionary and scary.
I miss not worrying about anything except myself.
I miss having total faith in God and not lingering doubts and questions.
I miss not feeling old.
