I miss the person you should have been
the mother who would take me to visit my college in the fall
she would have watched the leaves fall as we drove up north together
she would help me pack my bags and unload it all when we got there
hugging me so tight at the thought of being apart.
I do not miss the woman who drank on the night of my high school graduation
until she couldn’t stand straight
the woman who blackens my name with false words
and burns my pictures with cigarette butts.
I miss our Saturday morning shopping trips
to Goodwill & Salvation Army
you were always looking for something beautiful in the smallest of places
I try to find your beauty in the small spaces, in search for glimpses of the mother I miss
but it is too much to bear.