To each her own
My mother saw this photograph and said it look nothing like the Ittybit she knows.
To me it's her, heart and soul.
It's the spitting image of the child I see on a daily basis (or the child I had seen daily up until this past week, as she's been staying with her Maine grandmother for a few extra days of vay-cay-sh-a-mun.)
I miss her. I knew I would.
What I didn't realize was how quiet it would be without her around.
How different the reality is from the respite.
Now I find it strange how quiet can seem nice for a while before it just gets on a person's nerves.