Miss you

My body misses you today and everyday, but especially today.
The sky is grey and it’s cold outside. You would have been about six months and growing today. And when you were ready to be born, it would be a lot colder, but spring would be right around the corner. I would have taken you outside to exercise your legs and introduce you to bugs. And inside, I would have shown you how soft the bunnies are, and the cat probably would have regarded you skeptically. The house would be a disaster, and we’d be tired, but we would have been very, very happy.

Instead, there’s a constant numb pain tugging at my heart, because I’ll never know what you would have looked like, how your voice would have sounded, or what you would have felt like in my arms.