I miss Katie.
I missed her when I was making cake batter yesterday, cracking four eggs into the mixing bowl. She loved to crack eggshells.
I missed her today when I saw the picture of Monet's Japanese Footbridge in his garden at Giverny. She loved her book, Linnea in Monet's Garden; we read it many times, and dreamed of going to see that garden together.
I missed her when I thought of shopping at Nordstrom - no more of that, and no Nordstrom fashion shows together, or make-up sessions, or first real bra fitting, either.
I missed her when I thought about the spa in Palm Desert - we'll never get to take her there for Girls' Day Out. She'll be with me in my heart, but not there with us to enjoy the pampering for herself.
I missed her when I saw the jewelry tree in a gift catalog - she doesn't get to have my jewelry, or to pass it along to any children she might have. I have to go through hers someday, and decide what to do with it. Can't do it now.
I miss kissing her cheeks and her chin; I miss feeling her silky hair. I miss her sassiness and her humor. I miss her conversation at dinner. I miss her "take" on life. I just miss her.
It's a hard morning. I'm going for a walk, and then I'm going to pin some quilts for Children's Hospital.