Between Bruises and Blooms

I hope you’re laughing.

I hope your knees are grass-stained,

Your shoes are caked with dirt, And your faces ache

From smiling too much.

I hope you stay up too late,

Catch fireflies in your hands,

Tell stories that make no sense, And believe this summer

Will last forever.

I hope you’re making memories.

God knows I wish I was in them.

Every photograph I never took Lives inside my imagination.

I wonder how much taller you’ve grown,

Whether your voices sound different,

Whether you’ve found a new favourite song

Or a joke you’ll tell me

When we’re together again.

Home feels quieter now.

Not because it’s empty,

But because your laughter

Still echoes through the walls, Refusing to leave,

Refusing to let me forget

How alive this house becomes When you’re here.

People say, “They’re making memories.”

As if that should ease the ache.

It doesn’t.

Because I wanted

To make them with you.

To cheer the loudest.

To kiss scraped knees.

To hear about every bug,

Every fish,

Every adventure

You couldn’t wait to tell me.

Instead, I love you from a distance No mother ever chooses.

And maybe that’s

The hardest kind of love—

The kind that cannot hold,

Cannot fix,

Cannot tuck you into bed.

Only waits.

So while you’re chasing sunsets, I’m counting days.

While you’re collecting moments, I’m collecting hope.

Because I believe

There will come a summer

When I won’t have to imagine

The sound of your laughter.

I’ll be standing beside it.