I drove away one last time from her house. Well, her winter house. Said goodbye to the palm trees in the front yard as a few tears streamed down my face. The house would remain in the family, but I would likely never visit again. It was the last time I'd drive out of her driveway. Like so many times before, when she was sitting in the passenger seat. On our road trips back home.
It had been over five years since she'd left us. But I still miss her terribly. I miss our road trips. I miss listening to the stories she would tell on our journeys about her childhood, about mine. I miss summers spent mowing her back yard, stealing a handful of raspberries as I did. I miss sitting on her back patio enjoying a grapefruit soda. I miss fresh squeezed grapefruit juice from her tree.
I just miss her. And I know my mom misses her even more. And when I think about it, it scares me that I'll miss my mom like this one day, too. And whenever my friends tease me about hanging out with her, traveling with her, or just talking to her often, I know I'll be very glad I took the time to create these memories with her.
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