It could sound like i’m missing a person

immensely, excruciatingly

even for a moment

while i mourn a loss.

it could sound that way,

and really, maybe I really am.

I’ve just lost months of pictures,

maybe two or three months of raw footage

documenting those I most care about,

those I am saying goodbye too, if even for a while,

if even for a chapter.

i am so hurting to get it back.

Saturday my girl cried, caterwauled.

“Why does Maki have to move? She is my godmother.”

That alone could break your heart.

Our Maki left, sailed off Saturday

as my girl hurt, wanted to claw herself to Maki,

the woman she has been tied to since before being born.

Part of her is leaving and I don’t know how to say that I mourn the loss of those pictures we snapped

Friday night, the two them sitting close,

K hovering, pinning herself to Maki’s shirtsleeve,

distracted from the task of eating.

It was difficult, but taking the pictures, gave me a joy and an anchor.

“I will have these”, you know?

Those pictures, and the ones of them together, lighting Shabbat candles are gone gone.

The ones of Maki dancing and laughing and then crying, too.

Gone.

The joy of being in the room in the unveiling process of my Mom-and Dad-in-law’s new room

with our designers, turned friends, crying crying and cheering and jumping on the bed, well done.

Those are gone.

Shhhhwtttt. Paper ripping, torn up gone.

I’ve said good bye to friends almost everyday.

There is losing and missing and turning over new leaves

and old ones rotting away.

There were students in those months,

beautiful teaching still-lifes and ahas.

It was all beauty.

Irretrievable changes and milestones marked

with my own children.

A little while ago, I slammed a baby gate

and cried on the bath rug on my knees.

My moments in time

reflected, bathing in light

ready for my words— they are gone

and it seems all I have is some crappy tin, battery-less  flashlight.

I want my pictures back.

I want my girl’s godmother

I want my beauty, my words

ready.

I mean every shot is gone since August 11

and i just want to have them come flying back–

the sweet people and birdsong

the material

the momentum that gets me writing and praying and thanking G-d

the pure recording.

There were birthdays and my anniversary

and all that beauty inside a frame I can’t get back

and doesn’t that make anybody just want to wail

or sob or sniffle for just a little bit??

I mean, i am a very sensitive, highly nostalgic,

recorder and keeper of moments.

I BLOG, for goodness sake.

I want my time to mourn, if even a little.