Posted in Blogging, Writing

Day 16: Writing Challenge

Day 16: Writing Challenge: Something that you miss.


One– I miss being a child.

Living at home with my parents. My dad and grandmother alive. Things were simpler then. I didn’t have the worries I have now.

As children, we are more carefree. No bills. No children or households to manage.  No relationships to struggle with. Didn’t have to worry as much about people around me dying. I worried about it then, but not like I do now.

Friends have died. Young as they were. Family– unexpectedly. Death comes for us all. No matter how old we are. When it is our time, we go home. It is a reality I struggle with as an adult. When we aren’t ready to say goodbye.

As we grow older, we watch our parents grow older. Our worries become their worries. We worry about them.

I can hear my mother gasping for breath walking. I see the faces she makes struggling with her legs using the stairs. I am the one watching her as she leaves. Like she watched me when I was young. I see the pain in my father’s face. My biological mother’s using a cane when she walks.

Not only do we care for our children and our families. We care for our parents when they grow older. Like they cared for us when we were young.

We listen to their stories no matter how many times they tell them because they are important to them. They want us to know they lived. We cannot find the knowledge they have accumulated in their lifetime elsewhere.  They want to feel useful. 

If only we would listen to them, we could use their life experiences to live better lives. My parents often give great advice. Things were hard when they grew up, but it seems like things are worse now. 

People easily offended by everything. Governments falling apart. Children killing each other and their parents. Drug epidemics….

With all of this, I have my own children to raise. I worry about them in out in the world. I always worry if I am doing enough. If I am doing the right thing. The voice inside my head eats away at me with these fears.

It isn’t easy being a parent. My parents tell me I do a good job, and it’s nice to hear it from them.

I want to raise my children with the right values so they learn how to be responsible adults. Providing them with a happy home where they are free to be themselves. Hopefully, they grow up doing something they love.

When you grow older, you miss home. Being a kid. How you felt sleeping in your bed. The talks you had with your parents at the kitchen table. The hugs.

It is amazing how it feels to be a parent. Watching them learn and grow. Teaching them things. Showing them things from when I was little. It’s like experiencing childhood over again through their eyes. Watching them blossom into their own little individual.

I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

You learn to appreciate your parents (and grandparents) more when you become a parent.

Everything they gave up for you. Everything they sacrificed. Yeah, they did it all for you. So love your parents and take good care of them because when you were young they did the same for you!

Two– I miss hanging out with my Dad.

When my mom was at work, my dad couldn’t stand being bored. We found something to do! If it was Sunday and we were riding in the car, oldies were on!

Dad loved oldies and instilled an appreciation for them at an early age. We sang them. Or whistled them. I still do.

I remember, “Itsy, Bitsy, Teany, Weany, Yellow-Polka-Dot Bikini.” Dad said it was my song. I hated wearing a bathing suit, but I loved swimming as much as he did. After we would eat at one of his favorite restaurants, Wendy’s or Kentucky Fried Chicken.

If we weren’t swimming, we might visit my Aunt Ruthie. Dad played Solitaire, and she fixed him something to eat. She tried keeping me occupied. It didn’t always work. If I told Dad I was bored, we left. She never liked that.

I learned as I grew older, Aunt Ruthie was the family historian. Pretty cool! We didn’t visit her as often after Dad passed because she lived out in the sticks, and kept to herself in the same way I suppose our family did.

Every time I ran into her she would say, “You look just like your dad.” Made me feel good. Like he was a part of me somehow even though he was gone.


Me and my Dad.

Three– I miss my grandma’s cooking!

No one could cook or bake like my grannie could! She made the best homemade noodles, and dumplings you would ever want to eat. Her pies and cookies– delicious. If her cookies didn’t turn out, they went in the trash.

I am guilty of doing the same thing. They all laugh at me, but I know where I got it from. I never realized it either until my mother pointed it out– “Why are you throwing those good cookies away!”

I had forgotten all about it.

“Because they didn’t turn out!” *Laughter*

My favorite pie was lemon. She made it especially for me. It made me feel special.

That was Nanny, she made things for people to make them feel special. When I was younger, she would let me help bake cakes with her. We always had fun!

Something no one has made since she has passed is her rolls. I said I would try, but I haven’t yet. I can make other things like she could, but rolls were her “thing.” Maybe one day I will.  Everyone went crazy over them!


Nanny and her sister. Trip to Missouri when I was 16. One of the only times Nanny asked to be photographed.

Four– I miss my Dad’s 1955 Dodge

My dad brought me up with an appreciation for old cars. When parades were nearby, we rode in them. Threw candy.

The car was in great shape. She was pretty. She was his “pride and joy.” With only 55,000 original miles.

My sister inherited it when he passed away. Put it in a garage. Never drove it. Later gave it to my mother. She sold it.

Now it’s gone. I miss her. 

I remember sitting on those vinyl seats. Propping the windows open. They were weird.

But the times we had in that car– priceless. Even when he made up songs about me to tease me. He knew I hated that by the way I twisted up my face, and stuck out my tongue. But it was all in good fun.

** I’ll look for a pic of the Dodge.

Five– I miss my best friend

You don’t ever think a day will pass without them. Until they are gone. It’s lonely.

I miss the way she’d laugh and tease me about things that were probably true if I thought about them. How she would come over like it was her house too with her Diet Mountain Dew. We would stress eat chocolate if we were depressed.

She told me the truth no matter if I wanted to hear it– or not. I could always count on her to be honest. She would stick up for me in a heartbeat because I would do the same for her. No matter what she had done.

She was young with a son of her own. I will never understand the reasons behind it, and I don’t have to. I know God had his reasons. One day maybe I will know what they are, and maybe I won’t.

I know I miss her a lot. Life isn’t always fair, and that is the way it is sometimes. We deal. It hurts. A lot. We eventually heal. In time.










Beth– My best friend. A face to go with who I write about.





Dreamer. Doer. Poet. Writer. Mom. Baker. Lover of Many Things.

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