I miss your smile. Especially the devious little one you did when you were up to something.
I miss your perfume and powder.
I miss the card games and laughter over old stories.
I miss the way you used to tickle my arm or my neck for hours.
I miss the smell of lavender soap and watching you get your hair done.
I think of you every time I see a hummingbird or use Yardley's soap. I find myself wondering what you would think of the state of our country. I am sad that I can't hear stories from you about when you were young: the depression, the wars, our family. They were comforting. It helped to know that our country made it through hard times and you survived. I find myself searching for that strength now since we are again in dark times. I would prefer to hug you and hear the stories and have you tell me everything will be ok. Instead I will hug myself and think back to the many times we sat on the deck in Arcadia and enjoyed each other and all of the beautiful flowers. I know that where ever you are, you are looking over all of us and smiling.
On my visit to London in July, I visited The Tower of London. One of my favorite parts is Traitor's Gate pictured below. The stairs on the left are where important prisoners would enter the Tower from the River Thames.