Letters to Adrienne...
Time seems to be momentously slipping by with each passing day and in the small moments when I am forced to take a deep breath of air and face my surroundings, I can only feel the despair of knowing that I am missing each turning second of you growing into a young girl. Winter only bullies these disillusions and I find myself sinking further and further into warm thoughts of you as a baby. Tiny, joyous thoughts such as the way you would sway back and forth to music when you had developed sufficient motor skills or when you would babble on end to yourself in your crib after a nap in the cozy Vegas sun. I have memorized each little moment in only a way that a mother who once never spent a second away from her child does. I cling desperately to each memory in the collapsing hope to remedy the memories I will never have with you in the present. I have become obsessed with getting you back into my life on a daily basis, with you having me back in yours. No other priority to me exists. My wake and my dreams are riddled with guilt, anticipation, and cruel impatience. Each day I beg you for your patience and your understanding. Each day I beg you to remember me with love. Each day I tightly grasp these hopes with a heart so heavy that sometimes it sinks miserably in its darkness and other days it pushes through the sadness to reach its goal. I love you.