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Brook Colbert


I still remember her warmth. I remember that she would wrap her arms around me, covering me in a blanket of love. I would squirm and pull away, wishing she’d be less embarrassing; only now do I wish she had never let go. Now I yearn for her sticky cherry kisses, her soft soothing voice. I yearn for her smile that lights up rooms, her laugh that made me giggle. The way she would look at me even if I did no good. I wish I could embrace her one last time and breathe in her smell of baked goods. I want her to scold me, then hold me ever so tightly as she explains why. I ache for her to kiss me goodbye and then welcome me home. I crave for the meals she cooks and the conversations at the dinner table. I long for the way she’d ask me about my day. I dream of how she tucked me into bed, ever so softly, as if I was the most precious thing in the world. I envy those who still get sung to, kissed and embraced. I itch to hold her calloused hands. I long for her cold touch on my forehead when I’m sick, her look of pity when I spew. I cry out for her reassuring words when I am upset. I yearn for her presence when I thrive at school. I ache for her questions and her answers to mine. I loathe my stupidity for yelling and screaming that I hated her. I abhor the way she’d smile at me and love me anyway. I regret my words, my thoughts, about her those days. I have and will forever love her. She made me laugh, smile, cry, scream, hope and aspire to be who I wanted. She was my reason, and she forever will be.

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