Write. For five minutes straight. One-word prompt, five minutes, no editing. I'm linking up over at Lisa-Jo Baker (aka The Gypsy Mama) where we read, write and encourage.
I would ask you to sing for me, each night before you tucked me in. It was our little ritual: one that has been so long buried and avoided I'm not even sure I could remember the song myself. I think I've had a lot of songs sung to me over the course of my life- G-ma singing "my Brianna lies over the ocean", Mr. E sang of killing beetles to save me- but yours is always the one I think of when I seek comfort.
I loved to pull my covers up tight beneath my chin (I've never liked my shoulders to be exposed) and watch your face as you sang to me of His amazing grace. Grace that you've always found present in your life, grace that shines through everything you do.
Even now I think my love of music stems from you. Some of my favorite memories are dancing around the house, singing and cleaning. I do this now and Mr. E thinks I'm nuts, but I do it in remembrance of you and the things you taught me. To enjoy what I'm doing. To express my happiness to others. To sing of His amazing grace, even when we shouldn't sing, precisely because we can't sing.
I miss that part of you.
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Mrs. E