Presence

I feel you near.
In the clouds, in the air.
Your voice calls out to me.


I see you there.
In the sun, yes, everywhere.
I know you're watching me.


I hear your voice.
On the wind, by my choice.
Your sweet melody for me.

I've been missing my mom a lot lately. I'm just at that point in life when I could really use her opinion. Her love. Her advice. Her support.

She was my best friend. 

It's weird being here at college, because she was a student here her Freshman and Sophomore years. Knowing that she walked the same halls I walk, slept in the same place I sleep, sat in the garden where I sit...it's a comfort of sorts. Yes, it hurts at times. I look through old yearbooks and see her beautiful face, so carefree, so happy. The burden of sickness did not darken her countenance yet.

I joined the society she was a part of in her memory. I think she's proud, and I know it makes her smile.

I love to spend time in the music building. It was a residence hall her first year here. I feel especially close to her there. Every time I'm in the room that would have been her room, I feel a strange peace. (And I'm in there a lot.)

Her presence lingers here.

Not in a ghostly sort of way, no, I know she's in Heaven. (Besides, we all know ghosts don't exist.)
I can't really explain it, nor do I care to. But it's there.

She was a beautiful woman.

A picture of my mom at the age of 17. I was 17 when I took this photo.