I caught a glimpse of you last week. You were playing with a friend that looked like she could pass as your twin. Long brown hair, brown eyes, both skinny and tall. I would have called you a bean pole like everyone used to call me. I have to admit I was jealous of you. You seemed so happy, smiling at your friend’s silly ideas, running as fast as you could to catch up. Innocent as a lamb. You’d follow her to the slaughter if she tried.
I wondered what you would think of me if we met. Would I seem familiar? I have that brown hair and brown eyes you and your friend share. The same freckles across your nose. Would you say I was nice? Polite? Happy? Would you see my daughter and think she looked familiar? The same freckles splayed across her nose and the legs that seemed to go on forever. Bean pole she is too.
Would you like the kind of mother I am? Be proud of the job I have? Wish you would have a husband like mine one day?
Would you hope that one day you would grow up to be just like me?
Because you did.
And I wonder where you went.
Because sometimes I can’t find you.
And on those days I miss your smile, your laughter, your innocence. Even your long brown hair. And especially your friend.
I hope I see you more often, little girl. I miss you.