Untitled in 2017

Truth be told, I think about you a lot.
More than I let on.
Speak about.
Write about.

Every future occasion
holiday
and even the lazy do nothing days.

I have to stop to catch my breath as each festivity rolls by.
Without you.

A European man recently ran a marathon with an empty stroller, in remembrance of his stillborn son. I think about you, my girl, 9 months old tomorrow. I consider what costume you might have donned. Fiona was a ladybug her first Halloween. Your brother just wore a skeleton sleeper since he was barely 6 weeks old. I always pictured piggy-backing my costume off of yours. My minds eye always imagined us babywearing a lot (having two big siblings to chase after!). I could be a web, and you my spider. Last year’s costume involved you, too. I was Juno and Daddy was Pauly Bleeker.

This year I managed halloween leggings.