My Mom is a Shape Shifter!

My Mom is a shape shifter! 

It’s hard to believe but it’s true! She can be anything and everything she wants too! I know it seems a little strange but who hasn’t wanted to be someone or something else.

Sometimes my mom is a Butterfly, soaring in circles around me as I cater to our favorite hydrangea bush. She lands on the prettiest ones and I cut them and put them in a vase. 

Sometimes my mom is an Ice Cream Truck, begging me to chase her down and around the block, while blasting her catchy music non stop. She tempts my wallet with extra rainbow sprinkles.

Sometimes my mom is a Camera, filling my camera roll with thousands of memories, from embarrassing, awkward phases to perfectly posed professional grade photos. She makes me pay for extra storage 

Sometimes my mom is a Mirror, sharing my whole face, laughing at the same jokes, gasping at the same gossip.

Sometimes my mom is a Shadow On the Beach, always hiding from the sun, staying cool under beach umbrellas while staying away from the freezing water.  

Sometimes my mom is a Lifetime Movie, teaching me life lessons and keeping me cautious of dangerous life altering situations that'll probably never happen to me.

Sometimes my mom is a Car, chauffeuring me around to my classes and activities. Bouncing me back and forth to birthday parties and dance competitions, revved and ready for any spontaneous adventure or snack run. 

Sometimes my mom is a Broom telling me to clean my messy messy room, begging me to fold the laundry or sweep a little, taunting me by tripping me at the door way. 

Sometimes my mom is a Shopping Center, filling my room with so much stuff but not enough storage to keep them.

Sometimes my mom is an Empty Carton of peach punch that was once full, but now sits empty on my desk, judging me for not sharing like always and really judging me for drinking straight from the carton. 

Sometimes my mom is a Phone Call, vibrating my desk, my bed and my purse anytime anywhere. She makes her presence known

Sometimes my mom is an Empty Chair at my dance recitals, birthday dinners, graduation and great accomplishments.

Sometimes my mom is a Memory.

Sometimes my mom is a “was” and sometimes

I will acknowledge that my mom is dead.

But sometimes I don't want my mom to be associated with the “weres” the “wases” the words ending in “ed”.

Sometimes I just want my mom to be here with me.

And I don't want to have to speak to butterflies in hopes that she'll hear me and show me a sign.

And I don't want to order ice cream alone and watch it melt and drip down the cone.

And I don't want to delete photos from my camera roll because it always feels like I'm deleting her too. 

And I don't want to see her only when I look in the mirror or tell jokes she would have laughed at.

And sometimes I wish I had stayed with her under the shadow of our beach umbrella singing songs in the silky sand.

And I wish that I hadn't pretended to hate all those Lifetime movies that I now rewatch alone.

And I wish we could take spontaneous car rides to the beach with the windows down and music blaring.

And I wish she could see my broom buried under the mess from my room and yell at me to clean it up.

And sometimes I don't want to pick out my own clothes at the shopping center because no one knows my style better than her. 

And I wish we could share just one more carton of peach punch as I pour it into separate cups.

And I wish my phone calls wouldn't be missed and my phone would buzz and vibrate every second of the day.

And I wish every empty chair would have her sitting there.

And I wish she wasn't just a memory 

Every clock tick or passage of time my “sometimes” seems all the time.  

All the times that I miss her,

All the times that I wished she were here, 

All the times that I needed her to hold me.

All the times I needed my mom she was everywhere but nowhere all at once. 

Not in my messy room, 

Not in the car,

Not at the shopping mall, 

Not under the shadow of the beach umbrella 

And surely not at my future graduation. 

Every second that passes is one second longer since I've last seen my mom. 

While every other kid my age sees their mother daily I have to go and search for her.

 in the butterflies

 in the mirror

 in the juice section at the grocery store

 in the ringtones

 in the rainbow sprinkles 

and in all my memories.

I've never had the best memory.

There are times when I wonder what she would think of me.

There are times I wonder if she is proud.

There are times I wonder why it couldn't have been someone else.

There are times when I wonder if I am being punished.

There are times I wonder if she's watching me.

I want my best friend back, I want my harshest critic back, I want my beach buddy and snack sharer back, I want my mom back.

The rest of my life, the rest of my future my mom will be nothing but a memory. She will never again be the “ises” or any word ending in "ing". She will be just a memory, one that will never meet my future husband, one that will never attend my wedding, one that will never see me on Broadway, one that will never see me move away, one that I will have to tell my future kids about like an urban legend. Just a memory. 

So a couple more days, couple more months and probably a couple more years

I like to tell people how

My mom is a shapeshifter!