Evening turns to what seems like darkened midnight. Fireplace smoke lingers in the air. The nightly news utters the latest world tragedies. Kitchen clean-up takes longer than the meal did to prepare. I don’t need to hear any additional tragedies. One has engulfed my heart,home,body and soul.Through the condensation on the kitchen window I see the huge full moon. My mind swirls with the unimaginable pain of wondering if you are looking at that same moon, right now, in this second. I grab the dish towel to cover my mouth so the guteral moan of a mothers pain might not come to life, followed by more and more. As you were a little girl you and I would lay on the soft cool grass while naming the stars and being silly. Little girl laughter, tickles, “Mommy I love you”. Those times are seared into my heart and mind. Do you still remember? I hope so, but reality tells me if you do that you simply do not care. I have not seen you, my only Adult child in 3 years. In my mind you are still 5 years old begging me not to leave you alone at kindergarten. I had no idea 13 years later you would leave me begging you not to go. You chose to block me through all forms of social media and phone. I have no way to contact you if I needed to. I’ve had to mourn the loss of all the dreams I had for you and I. My dreams. Not yours. Wedding dress shopping, birth of your children, just you in general. On the days I can surfice with anger toward you I remind myself that it was your decision, and yours alone that chose to delete an entire chapter of my “Mommy Life”. I followed band busses every Friday night, walked the floors when you came in late, only to jump in bed and fake sleep when your headlights graced the drive way. It was you and I against the world. Now its you and I separated by an entire world. As Christmas draws near I wonder if you think, for just the most MINUTE minute of Christmas pajamas, reindeer food, cookies and milk for Santa. Oh my dear beautiful child, I hope you know that wherever I am will always be your home. One last look at the moon as I flip off the kitchen light and make my nightly treck upstairs to execute my daily and nightly ritual. I fall to my knees beside my bed and I BEG OUT TO GOD “Father God please keep my child warm, safe, happy and full and if you can spare any mere crumbs of grace for this broken Mom, Lord please bring my daughter home. I did the best I could.”. Same prayer. Twice a day. As I slip into bed I make a mental note that the front porch light is on and so is my cellphone. Tonight could be the night you need me, but as my pillow becomes drenched with tears I am completely aware that it most likely is not. “I did the best I could” brings little comfort in the dark moon lite room.