it's not fair.
the leaves are blowing across the street.
you use to say how they were all running to grandma's house.
i smile remembering, but it's tight. and i keep thinking it's not fair.
fall is hard because it's your birthday.
fall is hard because the leaves blow and the colors turn.
school starts and you were such a teacher.
and then i wish i could come for wednesday lunch.
i wish i could talk to my best friend.
oh sweet adeline, i wasn't ready.
it'll be snow that's blowing soon... i picked you up to drive you a block to church.
in your warm parka. and your goofy scarves.
warm pudding and twists. i know my sister tries. she's very good, but we both know they won't be the same. (i think we're both okay with that.)
we shovel the snow and you would peek your head out the door, "i was wondering who it could be, oh it's claire and johnny :)" or a frantic phone call, "claire, can you come feed the birds, the snow is too deep for me to get through!!"
and then comes spring. and your favorite flowers bloom. and i framed the pictures for you.
the heat of summer, to grandma's, talk forever over lime popsicles and chicken strips and drummies. mow the lawn, spotless. we all did it.
and then we come back around to fall again, and we're right back where we started.
i cry for my mother. and the eleven, and i cry for myself cause i can't think of another way to deal with it. stop being a wuss is all i can hear from you. i really just want to feel something. feel you here. anything, but i can't and it takes my breathe away.
